She would stare out
Over the crashing waves
A far off look in her eyes
Saying “waves live such short lives”
Questions haunt me to this day,
Like where waves go when they die?
What happens to their souls
After receding from the sand?
If they have an undertow
Do they have an undertaker?
A collector of remains
For waves that used to be?
Do other waves mourn
For the loss of their friend?
Are there tears upon my face
For loved ones to be missed?
Are they welcomed back to sea
Celebrated for their valor
In the never-ending fight
Against the shoreline?
Ultimately, I think they’re just waves
Doing what waves have always done
Like the stories told by ladies
Who are struggling to get by
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Hey Austin. Thanks for sharing your poetry. It is the only thing I understand on your website. When I read about disabilities and whatever, I thought you meant human handicaps lol. But I will stop by occasionally to check out if more poetry is on here.
Much love to you dear one. Merry Christmas everyday (like I think it ought to be).