Rising and Drifting Tide
That quiet evening in November
ended silent. Like wind on the side
of your neck, we both forgot to bide
our time-a mistake we’ll endure forever.
And we’ll curse those two hands for never
letting the simplicity of ‘us’ glide.
And then we’ll fail as we drift like the tide,
never truly comprehending ‘fall’ or ‘winter’.
And as we rise with new beginnings
that stem clumsily from past failures,
we’ll finally count our few winnings.
Because, in the end, it seems our cure
will be that quality is the very thing
that quantity envies, so rich; so pure.
ended silent. Like wind on the side
of your neck, we both forgot to bide
our time-a mistake we’ll endure forever.
And we’ll curse those two hands for never
letting the simplicity of ‘us’ glide.
And then we’ll fail as we drift like the tide,
never truly comprehending ‘fall’ or ‘winter’.
And as we rise with new beginnings
that stem clumsily from past failures,
we’ll finally count our few winnings.
Because, in the end, it seems our cure
will be that quality is the very thing
that quantity envies, so rich; so pure.