Drifts in the wind

Not anything now or maybe just maybe a smudge on the horizon or more likely some dust speck on a screen.

I’ve seen tomorrow in her eyes when filled with sorrow and it looks a lonely place, but even as I speak today my own two eyes can’t look away at what is sure to come.

I am wreckage on the shore being picked clean by the crabs.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.