[POEM] Absentmindedly ✏️

Absentmindedly beachcombing alone,
letting my thoughts slip down between the
stones and bones and bits of rope.

I stand still to lift my head,
watch the sea spray misting the land,
absentmindedly beachcombing alone.

The early evening light turns scattered seaweed
into gold but doesn't touch
the bones and ropes and bits of stones.

The hillside's dark silhouette is softened
by the sunset glow. I'm thinking of home
and absentmindedly beachcombing alone.

In a hundred years if someone were to search
for my life this is the treasure they would find,
just rope and stones and bits of bones.

I'm treading on hundred of sea-smoothed years,
absentmindedly beachcombing alone
for bones and stones and bits of rope.

I wrote the above poem on this very beach, the stunning Old Head Beach, somewhere along the west coast of Ireland last year. I always make sure to carry a notebook and a pencil with me when I'm traveling, so as to not miss any eventual moments of sudden inspiration. Old Head Beach is of geological as well as botanical, zoological and ornithological importance and attracts tens of thousands of visitors each year. Luckily I was pretty much alone when I got there; one of the many perks of off-season traveling.