Make your own free website on Tripod.com
E-Mail Moonwillow

 
 
The Lonely Tide
 

(maybe a bit cheesy – written in 1966 though)

Grey and wet;
The cold and flat season.
Lonely and cold I wander along the deserted sands that still vibrate with the ring of laughter.
The sea surges forth
And then shrinks back
As if some sudden change of fate had caused it to reconsider it’s action at the last moment.
Again it surges forth in a white fury of foam.
The damp sands on which I walk still echo with the yellow ochre tones of summer,
Whilst the salty spray of foam dampens dried up memories in my heart.
Memories not forgotten;
Memories stored.
Memories of a love that grew and blossomed into a fragrant flower whose mellow bloom was squashed.
Although the bud is dead
And the heart is crushed,
The seed was duly sown
To grow again some day
And like the retreating tides forever more return.
The squawk of gulls;
They are the distant specks against the horizon.
Sailing;
Flowing across the vast tormented sky in a perpetual search for food.
Endless and deep,
Raging and emotional the ocean.
Like my love it should be still.
It should be calm and silent.
Not growing deeper as the seasons pass and change.
Summer…..Autumn…..Winter…..
Memories should be forgotten,
Not fresh and living like the sea.
Look on to Spring
Not back in time,
For Summers nearly here.
Salty air;
Damp and cold air;
Biting winds
That tear across the planes of my mind
Ripping at the very roots of my memory,
But they cannot;
I cannot forget;
I can still remember the summer hot and mellow.
Lazy days;
Carefree days.
Sea so warm and gentle rippling at my feet…..
Summer;
It seemed so endless then.
The crowded beach.
The cries of sundrenched laughter rising amidst the ocean sounds.
And the deck chairs…..
And the ice cream cartons…..
And fish and chips…..
And sand filled sandwiches…..
And bunioned lily white feet…..
All set against the deep blue sky like a gigantic collage.
Running hand in hand along a deserted cove
Where now, a decayed old piece of driftwood flows back and forth;
A servant;
A slave to the tide.
Silently I walk and shiver in the wind.
My hair wraps itself around my face stinging my eyes.
Summer will come once more – it has to,
But I wonder, will it be the same?
I can wait all winter long amidst this solitude;
This silent world I live in,
But will he, alive and throbbing in his city life return to me next summer?
I think he will.
I hope he will.
Love cannot be denied.
It grew so deep in those few months that winter cannot freeze the furnace of our hearts.
And so I wait as I have done till now
Until that day…..that time……that place,
Where we vowed to meet again.
I’ll be there
As I have done every day
Since we both arranged it so.
A lonely figure standing in the breeze on the cliff top
Looking outward towards the sea.
But on that special day…..that certain time…..
Two figures on the cliff.
No more will I search the horizon.
My lonely walks are through.
He’ll be here for ever more;
Holding out a hand
And together
Walking hand in hand with time, we’ll go.
The seeds so long ago dispersed
Has grown strong and straighter than before.
It can not be crushed
But will bloom and bear ripe fruit
All the seasons through.

Janis April 1966