The Closing Tide. Poem by PHIL WINTER

The closing tide
Now steals my breath
And flows away from me.

Quietly, as I lie here
Snatches from the carnival of my days
Speed across my fading memory.

Moments of anger,
Hatred, greed
All flash to me, tormentingly,

Before my lips can find the strength
To beg life to forgive
This tide will swell and wash away
The chapters of my being.

I hope that soon
They rest my bones
With flowers in a field.

Then my parted soul will rise
Unseen, unheard, unknown
To spend a year,
A century, who knows!
In the corridors of time.