Mornings By the Sea

In the morning by the sea
as the fog clears from the sand
with no money in my hand
nor a home upon some land
sand now fills my hand
But this doesn’t trouble me
as I lay beside the fire
I am easy to inspire

There is little I require

I wasn’t yours
and you weren’t mine
though I wished from time-to-time
we had found some common ground

that would make a welcome sound

How the emptiness would fill
with the waves and with your song
when people felt that they belonged

and didn’t simply keep moving on

Through the never-ending days
where the way is seldom clear
my compass is not near

to drive a ship I cannot steer

Through the bleak and early morns
where the stronger willed still swarm
where the moments move so slow

and never lets you go

For when my hands are old and achy
and my memory flickers dimly
and my bones don’t hold my skin
there’s no place I haven’t been
I’ll recall my days with you

that is all that I can do

I feel our carvings on the tree

that gave some shade for you and me
my simple wish each day is
. . . we could still be . . .

Dr. Deb

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