117/ Every land mass comes to an end

Every land mass comes to an end.
The waves shimmer like diamonds,
sand blows along the wind-swept shore.
In our changing world, on our faces
shadows and lines deepen.
Into the mirror she glances,
we all age at the same speed.

I stopped for petrol and chocolate,
see how my car’s looking,
see how I’m looking.
Someone draws up,
you only have to glance at someone
not to like them.