The Tide

The tide when restless turns and churns

and sweeps up life and little things

and I within this now have learned,

it never ceases day or night,

and things for me just can’t go right.

It’s sometimes hard when rough winds blow,

to keep it up and not let go

and sometimes storms throw me a shore

to lay and die, to live no more

but I didn’t bend to people’s way

I keep in there for one more day.

My body’s burned by salt of sea

the sun has parched the rest of me

my brain has long since gone astray

to think that death is on its way….

So I will be here one more day ,

and after that “?” I can not say.

By Meredith J Weir

all rights reserved 1968.

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