Pulled up from the waves enough
to squeeze your sister’s hand -
my father cried for you.
I think I cried for him.
Maybe the years will all come rushing
back when the sun finally dries the shores for good.
Pulled up from the waves enough
to squeeze your sister’s hand -
my father cried for you.
I think I cried for him.
Maybe the years will all come rushing
back when the sun finally dries the shores for good.