BEACHED

The bonds of tolerance were stronger
Than he these days, but as long as the waves
Stayed in their trenches, and not too
Much silt was thrown his way, he was grateful.
The sky broke daily to allow its patrons
View of him, and he returned their favour by
Communing with genres and authors,
Regardless of status or popular demand,
Until bluster caught him off guard.

The storm tension tore strips of paper
From his old man’s facia,
Whilst his formal beach front clothes collapsed,
Weakened from within by such distress.
Four days faded beneath the weight
Of coastal duelling before he reflated,
And upon doing so he surveyed
The last rattle of death as it left the sand;
Swooning with a trickle of stolen silicon.

He swept the rest of the grit from his porch
And settled back down to his belongings,
Increasing his frame upon a lounger
Amidst the comfort of ruined cushions,
And after wiping his wind wrecked skin
With imprinted fingers,
He brushed his hair back, picked up his page,
And with a shrug of resolve
Assumed the position again.