Wheelchair

WITH MY WHEELCHAIR AT THE BEACH

These two lines behind me are not exactly straight
Nor am I, exactly straight. Curving, circling near
The land wash, softly humming, sun on my curls....
Trailing a whole new meaning into tracks.
This dream land gives me free hand designing
To my liking. Shells, mother of pearl, shore
Littered with creatures distracting positively
into curiosity. Is that how to fight fake reality?
With magic that defies? Created by me?
These wheels do not sink into soft sand, strongly
Carrying slight weight, turning, trying dancing,
Not straight, exactly how it should be.
Exactly how I kill the dream with a slight
Wave of my hand, a curt nod of dismissal.
Nothing to spoil this castle on this beach,
And the comforting murmur of the sea.


© Darren White