Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

I combed, Hemsby beach…


I combed the beach for comets
Knowing only too well
They exist where I’m walking,
And at last I find my comet.

But ‘O’ look there’s another
And now another and another!

My pockets are by now heavy.
Of picking comets, I weary.
When, what is truly rare!
Becomes abundant; common place.

Submitted: Monday, July 22, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, July 23, 2013
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Comments about this poem (I combed, Hemsby beach… by Mark Heathcote )

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  • Dave Walker (7/22/2013 5:46:00 PM)

    A great poem, like it. Too much of something always
    takes the excitement away. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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