Last Evening

Occasional Poems

Last Evening 

My life is a beach with people leaving 
It’s 7:30 the end of a summer day
Chairs flat packed,
parasols closed, children gathered. 
Bipedal pack animals amble by,
laden with inflatables. 
The car park’s emptying 
as I pull in. I walk  
against the flow of humanity  
to stand, feet in sand,
where I can see the evidence  
of a civilisation past.

A few stragglers fold up 
their lives until
there’s just me,
the endless waves, 
and the sun watching.