Tides

The tide will wash over

The tide will crash down

For your little feet

to press into the ground

The same as forever from now

and before,

the same as your mothers

whose prints are no more

The tides will come slow

but surely will be

so breath calm heavy heart

you soon will be free

And when you are whisked

away with the tides

your prints will remain

only as long as night’s skies

To be smoothed away

for new toes to sink in

while yours only remain

in memory and wind