Crimson Tides
Crimson tides remember what we are,
beneath the bridge where spring begins to glow;
the ocean aches for all that drifts too far.
New buds unfold like veins beneath a star,
a first flush learning how to grow;
crimson tides remember what we are.
Your name rides in the light, a guiding star,
no longer wound, but life in steady flow;
the ocean aches for all that drifts too far.
Where waves and morning light align afar,
new shoots unfurl and grow below;
crimson tides remember what we are.
The bridge holds more than rust and scar—
it holds the chance to reconnect, to show;
the ocean aches for all that drifts too far.
So spring leans close, no longer just a scar,
each wave a pulse, each breath we come to know;
crimson tides remember what we are,
the ocean aches for all that drifts too far.
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