On an easterly wind of change,
My life does of me pass by,
Like a movie I watch it from my deck,
I see things that make me say, “what the heck”,

From the west at far away range,
I smell death approaching,
On me in particular he is encroaching,
In his distant hold I can feel myself choking…

Mom ocean in the east reacts very strange,
She summons me to her shore,
She wants to keep death away for sure,
My death apparently prearranged,
She keeps me close till with death we can make another exchange…
© -me- 12/20/14