A plastic sheet, a bottle top, a sheet of rubber, a sponge,
A plastic spoon, a thousand straws, scattered across the sand,
A lady’s shoe, a toddler’s shoe - who lost them who would know?
A toothbrush caked in sewer sludge, back from sea to land.
Another wave, this time brings, a bottle of green tea,
No preservatives, no colouring, and yet won’t rot away.
Another sheet, another sponge, wrapped in rope and weed,
Another squid lure smiling, its hook long perished away.
More yellow rope, more neon string, a coconut gleams gold,
Another lighter, a bicycle pedal, grey beneath the sand.
A sheared off lid of gasoline, a lid of Nescafe,
A bottle this time of herbal tea, made in Vietnam.
A lump of wood from a shipwrecked ship, painted toothpaste blue,
A plastic float, another shoe - this time 42.
A pineapple top, more lures and line, how many squid they catch!
A packet of durian crackers, high in iron and crap.
A measuring jug half-filled with sand, another can from Vietnam...
A brother and sister no more than 12, still in their school clothes,
Wash out a bag and walk the beach, collecting bottles and cans.
But they leave the lures, the wooden planks, the lighters, shoes and rope,
The straws, the string, the plastic spoons, the countless plastic cups,
The fishing line, the endless bags - there’s no money in any of those!
Oh what a shame that plastic, isn’t worth its weight in gold...