Pieces of Englewood
Lay on the Beach
On the edge of my memory,
Just out of reach.

Sharks teeth and sea shells,
A bucket of sand;
We search for our childhood
As hard as we can.

But high tides and Gulf winds,
The heat of each day
Eroding and blowing
And wash them away.

The drumming of time,
The persistence of age
Mark each passing measure
And beat as they fade.

And pieces of Englewood
Lay on the beach
On the edge of my memory,
Just out of reach.

 
August 4, 1998