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.