by Jon Coe

Created on: October 27, 2008   Last Updated: February 06, 2012

Enigma of my humdrum life
neither a dagger, nor a knife
As I clench this piece, at hand
through fingers falling, into sand
Trees line my island coast
casting shadows, upon my ghost
And as I roam these beaches, gold
a life that could, begins to fold
Money, prosperity, all I want
alone and wondering, always haunt
To have, yet not to hold, that is true
a sacrifice for wealth, instead, of missing you

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