Down in that dip beneath what I
see
waves of memory wash over me
and sometimes they cool my
restlessness
to leave me refreshed and
perfectly calm.
Then there are times when the
waves are wild
and toss me about like a piece of
driftwood
but I must be that because life
cut asunder
the good and honest, the true
meaningful.
Driftwood of course has no
memory;
it’s just a thing discarded,
useless,
with no “inside” to dictate the
times
of good to bad or laughter to
frowns.
No wishing, no hoping, no longing
to be
a piece of driftwood can ever ere
be
and so in that dip there’s work
in progress
to calm those, oh, so very wild
waves.
Come on waves, come hither to me,
calm like the day before knowing love!
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