Descending Memories: 

Days come in now like a pouring rain

as lost dreams regain there encroaching pain.

For time has become like this islands blowing sand,

Here but for a moment and then gone again.

Gone, oh gone to the saddening four winds,

With their descending memories

With their failing grins.

Gone are the times sweet treasure,

Erased from life’s agenda forever.

Nevermore, to be again,

For this day is now yesterday,

And tomorrow has yet to begin.

So whereunto should this bellowing soul stray,

Without a tomorrow

or the memory of yesterday.

For of these sands and sea,

Have not only they given,

But as well, they have taken from me.

For as it stands….

And as it is,

I soon must leave for another land.

Though I lack in spirit and am weak of heart.

I realize that for hope of another morrow

I must depart…

Yeah though if to the tomorrow I return,

I will spend each and every moment in a longing sorrow

For I only wish to be by the sea,

And become ancient as its very sand.

Perhaps someday…

Perhaps…I pray.

J. Allen Wilson © September 30, 2004

 Tybee Island, Georgia