Ephemera  
 

The footprints in the sands of time are yours;
Your tears and your sweat
Fill them to overflowing.
 
The hard, bright sun
Sucks up the pools of your labour,
Leaving only salt
To mark your passing.
 
Salt-rimed sand
Drifts with the wind
And is gone.

Clare Stewart
08 October 1980

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