The edge

I love your broken edge,
the way you spill into the sea;
with your stalwart cliffs eroding,
you are beautiful.
Leave your soft collected stories
to roll and tumble on the shore,
wearing corners, brushing edges,
becoming keepsakes,
tokens, treasure.

Under the watch of the headland,
weigh the past
in the palm of your hand.
Keep the beautiful
for the memory box,
gift what remains to the sea.
They formed the land you walked here on,
but are not all yours to keep.