DRIFTWOOD

Written for Monty's Traditional Poetry Contest

DRIFTWOOD

The tide brings in the driftwood, amid the seaweed,
where it is picked up and admired by those who walk by.
Weathered by the ocean, beaten against the rocks,
it nestles safely in your hands as if content there to dry.

From whence it came, it gives no sign or indication,
How many miles away did it once start to grow?
Imagination runs rampant as you study it with interest
but then you will never, not ever, really know.

Cleaned and polished, the driftwood becomes a showpiece,
surrounded by shells of many different shades and hue.
Green vine entwined over and around it's branches
brings it back to life, and asks not a thing more from you.

Countrymom
3/1/08