Dawn comes about and I lay in the sands,
In the wake of a strong coastal storm.
The paper and pen I bring in my hands,
Lay dormant in sun not yet warm.
I see down the beach, some miles from me,
A young woman who moves in a dance,
I stand up and walk, from my pen I am free,
To this girl who had stolen my glance.
Not a dance, in fact; I observe her throwing,
Some starfish to the cool water’s reach.
Her task, like my worry, is gradually growing,
For thousands do lie on this beach.
I ask why she tries, she responds in kind,
“It is dawn and the tide is receding.
I cannot leave these starfish behind,
Or on them, the birds will be feeding.”
“But surely your efforts are futile!” I say,
“Of thousands, you can save only few.
You can’t make a difference, not in one day,
Even with ten girls to help you!”
She listened politely, then picked up one more,
And threw it, just as she had done.
She said, with a grit seen never before,
“Well, it made a difference to that one.”
So here now I stand, on this sunlit shore,
With a starfish in each of my hands,
My pen and my paper, I need them no more,
They lie, untouched, in the sands.
Thank you for reading my poem, and if you think it is any good, please share it.