Waves
With wisdom I walk this sand
A lasting vestige of holy land
The water’s rise had been for told
Hence, it came as I grew old
Smartly I stand upon this land
The last remnant of God’s good hand
So as the waters close in on me
I stand alone with one oak tree
Soon I'll climb above God’s ground
With water lapping the only sound
I pray the lord looks down on me
And sees I need a taller tree
9/17/2018
Copyright © Jerry Hackett | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment