We erected sand castles on the shore
I designed them and you painstakingly formed them
Into edifices complete with turrets, flags, and moats.
We even won the contest for the most authentic.
Now the only castles we build are in our imaginations.
You don’t even recognize your queen anymore and I
am sad at the ravages that alzheimers has afflicted my king.
Oh, to be young again and sit at sunset and watch the tide
sweep away our castles, slowly and gently.
Perhaps we can sit on the balcony tonight and hold hands.
This may be the day you call me your queen again .
Are you aware of your scope and sway,
that the moon controls your destiny?
High tide, low, or waning,
she sets the limit of your boundary.
For centuries man continued to aspire,
to ride your waves to unknown shores.
Times you spew him like dragon’s fire,
others you cradle him like a babe.
Poets forever speak of your beauty,
sonnets formed for you alone.
Romances blossom along your side,
to be washed away before the dawn.
Mankind mirrors your volatile moods.
Rising from the peace of the neap
to the height of powerful tsunamis,
mysteries lie buried in the deep
(musical perspective of Psalm 23)
The Lord is my composer, filling each moment with music.
His songs soothe my soul.
The notes are new each morning, like a prelude at dawn.
When the day’s stress becomes a crescendo,
He calms me with a synchronized sunset.
Amidst darkness He gives me melodies of praise.
Hope and joy are the keys He strokes on the keyboard of my heart.
He removes my sour notes and restores them with perfect pitch,
Bringing us all into His heavenly harmony