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Friday, September 6, 2013

changing tide


time passes
aging envelops me
it embraces me
tighter and tighter

storms I used to
only wince at
now leave me
with anxious despair

when time was young
I could build me
a shelter with strong hands
and soon the storm
would pass

sitting on beach sand
would lead me to play
run in it and watch
the ocean tides come in
challenge me to swim
in them

when once the hand
that held mine as we’d
kick sand and splash
each other in play
wishes no longer to
walk near the ocean
out of fear

and when I do
a quivering timbre
voice calls out
‘don’t forget
to come back to me’

the beach sand, now,
my every step labors
although still pleasing to
'mine eye', of what I can see,
the ocean waves
with their roar
seem menacing to me