I am not
Or have not turned out to be
Who I thought I was
Even if I helped to forge
Your misapprehension
Yes I did write poetry
But that was for many reasons
Too many to talk about now
Even if we could
But of course now there is no reason
Another beach café filled
With older people such as you and I
This time the sand is brown
And supports a fisherman with rod and line
Fishing in the anything but azure blue sea
The very place where a few summers ago
Daughter, grandsons and you
Talked to another fisherman
Who told the young boys he was after shark
But I said, not to believe all that you are told
