Who comes to this outcrop at night
Fleeing the ocean of days
Snagged on the tide as flotsam?
This is an unsettled shore
Reaching to pluck pieces of you
Here at each encounter.
This rock resembles enough solid land
To harbour only errant daydreams
Frequent flyers and sea legs
As night falls though,
The moon touches the shoreline and
The bubbles of seafoam
Mingle with weeds
Breaking against it in mad destructive urges.
Who else has come, savagely fragmented like me?