Beachcomber

Beachcomber

Wandering vagrant of the seashore
Living contently on the outskirts of life
Tan, lean, unshaven, the envy of some
Self banished from world's daily strife

A wooden shack, palm fronds for home
Righteous people sidestep the outcast
The quiet scavenger of the wharf by night
Hearing whispers, tempted to shout avast!

Peacefully living by the coastal towns
Clutching to every second of his solitude
Beachcombing the seacoast til day's end
As the young surfers call out  "hey dude"

The spirit, mind or soul are not destitute
His realm is rich with what he desires
His possession are treasures from the sea
No more the towering wall street empires

Delia J Fry