The Waves
Do you hear those waves crashing on the shore?
You might say someone was slamming at your door.
Oh, what I would give to ride those waves so high,
And never again to the shore draw nigh.
I would give money or even fame,
For a chance of those waves to tame.
I hear them crashing on the shore,
And it is those waves that I long for.
Soon that day will come when I will try my best,
To lie in the trough and rise with the crest.
When that crest pushes into the sky,
I will most nearly be able to fly.
I will ride the waves out to sea
The shore, I will no longer see.
I will whip the tide with my hands,
And from great distances see many lands.
For in the oceans I will stay,
Until I am called home for aye.
Yes, I would rather live and die in those waters of the world,
Than to spend another second on dry soil.
I would ask you to go with me on my quest among the fishes,
However, I am sure you are too young and have had better wishes.
Therefore, the old man left on that mornings tide,
Whipping that water as if it were his child’s own hide.
The old man left never to return,
As he reached the horizon he gave the water one last churn.
Up he flew with the greatest of ease,
Then down he floated like a cool summer breeze.
That was the last I ever saw of the old man,
Nevertheless, as I grow older I am beginning to understand.
His thoughts were pure and true at heart I know.
It was his destiny to the sea he must go.
I sometimes wonder where the old man could be,
But I do not worry for it is not in the sea.
No my friends, he was called home long ago.
For it is with Jesus that he does now stroll.
Copyright © Barry Weatherford | Year Posted 2007
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