Felix Dennis

Upon the beach a solitary tree
   Defies the sea— a shambling stag at bay,
The left side iridescent greenery,
   The right a driftwood copse of salt and spray.

I wade from where the living sap still thrives
   To stroke an antlered bough worn white as bone:
Wet sand sucks at my feet— so time sucks lives,
   The concubine reduced to chaperone.

What lightning strike was this, what storm or wrack
   Wrought ruin with a hydra-headed glance?
Half-naked, with the crabgrass at her back,
   She stands, as we must stand, a shrine to chance.

   So ravaged kings on crutches play their part,
   And ghosts of faded beauty stir the heart.

Mandalay, Mustique January 26, 2008