A soft breeze gently rustles the golden leaves that have fallen scattered about, below the twisted grey branches of the tree from which we used to swing.
Our names, carved by the hand of this tenderhearted young boy, still echo love, of youth and of each other.
I now take your hand in mine, and beneath the shadow of this tree, a testament and reminder of our love, I ask that we never allow it to fade into the grayness of those limbs or to dry and crumble like the leaves that have fallen to the ground.
But that we allow it to grow ever upward, and to be strong, as the trunk of the great tree itself that bears the evidence of this great love, which beneath its arms began.
I must now ebb The time has come to sail my oceans
Rolling away from you like the waves from the shore rippling out to the vastness of the sea that beckons my ship of folly
I'll not ask you to stand the night vigil on the shoreline of memory
You are here on the beaches of my memory even though I drift the tides
If you should look into a starlit night and see a reflection of me know only that I will one day come crashing again to the shore swept homeward by the pull of the tide and YOU
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