A small poem I wrote today, not really sure what I think of it yet.

Sunlight burns the grey clouds
above the ashtray beach,
where, then, I ran the nineteen summers
of my sandy youth.

Sunlight burns the grey shrouds
of a late winter,
glinting in shreds of summers gone
into the small years.

Sunlight burns the grey, proud
men who spit sand and broken pebbles
into a cluttered world
and are done.
I like the imagery of this and the use of an unusual verb such as "glinting".

I say just develop it a bit more.
Thanks guys. You're probably right, it does need more development I think.