Tired strings of macramé
Stretched thin – torn in places –
Tie the tarnished floats,
Tossed in tumultuous waves.
Spewed into the sea –
With such random selection,
They crash – clanging
Their glass shells chaotically.
Time ages tight knots –
Loosing of woven straps,
Swells severing knit cords,
Setting free the single spheres.