The tide turned
The talent washed away
Shells of brilliance scatter the beach
Token remnants for kids to turn over

I used to walk in knee-deep water
Sometimes caught unaware by an angry comment
I braced against the cascading skill
It was a sign I wasn’t welcome here

Where is the ebb and flow of metaphor now?
The gentle rippling of similes have flattened out
Sparkles of abstractness have twinkled away
Seeking new beaches of appreciation

The tide of talent has lost its strength
Grounded itself in shallows of aimless thought-streams
Waned its power in feeble attempts to conquer the ignorant
It barely attracts the attention that it once commanded

Seagulls line the waters edge
Standing patiently and waiting
For the tides of talent to bring them a sample
A particle of sustenance to fight over

Now only the appreciative few stroll the beaches
On a quest to recapture the image of poetic might
Seeking a return of the talent that kept their feet wet
In a never ending desire to share in the skill

The sand proves to be overly coarse now
These unrefined pieces of haphazardly written pieces
An irritant where once there was comfort
How much longer must I wait for the tide to turn?

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