Low Tide
These are the shores of my mind
And today is low tide
And all I have is this beach
Littered with small evaporating pools
And the flotsam and jetsam of a normal life
Left tide-stranded on my beach.
I search from memory to memory
Bend down for each significant shell
Or unusual stone.
I stoop to pick up each one,
Turning it over and over
As though it could be a key
To unlock some secret door.
PUBLISHED: STAND Volume 5(2) September 2003
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