How can I feel that my life is over
If it has barely just begun?
He pointed that out to me,
Maybe he is my hero, just a little unsung.
I make my mark here, see my tracks?
They just happen to be in the sand
So the tide washes them away each night
As it checks out what’s on land.
So I have to do it all again each morning
Because I know by the time night comes around
My mighty footprints marching on the beach
Will effectively be completely drowned.
But each morning I wake up and I walk out
And I make my mark each day just the same
Those lucky few that follow me in the light of day
Will learn my path and they will know my name.
Or at the very least they will know
Which way I went out today
And know the path that I walk with pride,
Even though each night it is wiped away.
I’m just a girl, who you sometimes follow
And my cuffs are a little wet
Maybe my path needs to be retraced
But I haven’t given up just yet.
YOU ARE READING
What I Think
PoetrySome of my philosophy of life...from my perspective...and those that I borrow. Enjoy.