A tide flushs in with the waves
One which I've seen before
A tide which reminds me of the past
A past which is gone
Left behind
Like childhood toys
In the wake of adulthood
I stand with false strength
Speak strange words
The dirt clings as lies escape my mouth
I was pure
I was true
False love to true hate
A dying flower begs for water
But the sun will not recoil
The tide comes again
I laugh to myself
The ocean calls
The dirt washes off as lies escape my mouth
I was real
I was loved
The tides have changes again
Chris Townsend
March 14, 1999
