R.I.P Tide

R.I.P Tide

 

Here

He cried

Reach out and take my hand

Quick

Before the tide turns

Hurry

Once turned

It will be too late

To make shore

 

Be gone

He cried

Pointing toward the sky

Though

Whether at gulls

Or

Gathering storm

Shall 

Never now be known

 

Then

There are those

Tis said

Who wished him dead

Hence

The slack line

Punctured hull

Absent flare

Welcome

To your own grave

He said

 

 

 

  

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

ooooooooooo murder, mystery and the deep! we have just the right amount of bones for the skeleton ..and inspiration to fill in the body ..i do enjoy your stuff my friend! .. and for me this is layered .. we catch such a quick glimpse sometimes .. if our response is not instant and assured ..we loose it ;)
E.

[Neville]

You are absolutely spot on my good friend. Thank you.....N