Along the shore when tide is low
run busy men both to and fro
prints left by feet each place they go.
As time goes by the men grow more
but tide creeps high and must they then
say their goodbye till next they meet.
They are no more the sea will show
so work again although they know
next tide they greet will not be low.
This is one of the first ones I wrote while in Florida. I was wandering the beach, just thinking about the fleeting things in life, and how sometimes we work so hard only to have it washed away, and no matter how many times it’s washed away, we keep on building and pushing forward. Even when we know it’s going to be destroyed eventually.


