Low Tide (My Fall From Grace) Poem by James McLain

I failed again and at my fall some talk.
The watermarks upon the earth soft lips
and why I am like you in death shall have.
Emily where did I seek to go so wrong.
Latin now is spoken by no one.

Though one turn upon each day is all most have.
Henry Ford one hundred years ago he had
and you thought like he your only son.

To plead for all the working souls.
And never give an inch you from home took.
Look to the future never from the past.
As the past will always circle back.

If the parting is as sweet that some shall give.
If this violent culture is all we offer up.
If when you come again and just turn your back.
It's not a game worth playing none should have.