Tracks on a Beach

I don't care if you never come home.

I only hope that where ever you roam,

Your journey is pleasant,

You meet good friends.

And the world is the better

That you were there.

That certainly is true,

For our time me and you.

The tracks that we leave

Wash away in the tide

We are temporary sojourners

That's something we can't hide.

We bear unbearable sorrow,

Til we can't do it no more.

Then we drop our burden

And walk out the door.

And the tide marches in

As if we'd never been there.

I think of an ancient Islander

I read about in a book.

The house where he lived

Is home to fish and crabs.

The island that was his home

Is now shallow sea floor.

Had he been long gone,

Or recently out the door?

Time is like a broom

Sweeping the floor.