The Hourglass Poem by Daniel Peter Jones

Peppered ground, molding to
The curves of my feet

Dry, cold, refreshing, folding
Through my toes, an hourglass
At my base

Salted air carves out my lungs
Each breath a memory of
My youthful Sundays
In, out, in, out

Through time I glide,
Redolent of the sea
I'm 8 years old

A grey wind washes my face
As vinegar from the newspaper
Seeps into my shorts

The lemon top cream, cries
Over its cone, caressing my brothers
Fingers, sugared white

Arcade lights bounce off
The mirrored walls, non
Rhythmical but enticing

And the Sea sings with its
Crashing Harmonic drone to
The seagull pitched melodies
Nature's orchestra

My parents, giants now
Support my weight through
The current of the water,
I bounce, they laugh,
The laugh of youth.
They were so young.

Rain attacks my cold
Young face, the hourglass
Sand, thrown upwards
Time shifts,

Im 36 again.