The worst part is not knowing i'm about to drown.
The worst part is about how I drown.
No matter how far inland I travel,
there will always be sand between my toes,
silt under my finger nails,
and water in my lungs.

I wait patiently for the moon to bring the next tide.
Marking off the days until it comes to collect me.
And there is no point telling the moon,
"Sir I thank you all the same but, not today.."
And no matter the meadow I walk in,
I still breathe in the salty sea air
and it tires me so.

Picking the daisies.
Pulling off petals.
Today? not today? today? not today? today..

And you have to say goodbye each and every time.
How I wish I could stay.
Holding onto my hand.
You can only but watch
while I gasp for breath.
Panic fills my eyes as I lay among the flowers.
With the sky so pretty and so blue.
  
But I know how cold it is down there,
as the sea drags me deep.
Down I sink,
into it's murky depths.
Fathoms deep.

And I know that drowning
is the last thing I need to be worried about.
It's not what you die from,
it's how you die.
Drowning is nothing,
nothing compared to how I will die today.

And when all the air is gone.
And my lungs are full of brine.
And the fear of dieing is now.
The silence will begin.
There is a vast nothing.
Nothing to hear,
and nothing to see.
Nothing to feel,
and the sky is no more.

And when my skin is water logged
and grey,
the tide will turn.

I open my eyes to see the silver reflections,
like mirrored shards in the sea's sky.
I can see the watercolour sky through the sky
and it is a most beautiful blue.  
It is as if you had painted it just for me.
Just so I could find my way back home.
And maybe today there will be a sun.
And tonight there might be clouds.
And later,
when I am finally asleep,
there will be all of the stars.

And I will know that this time,
maybe this time, I will have lived again.

And my skin will be warmed by the sunshine.
And I will lay in the fragant meadow grass,
listening to your voice,
softly saying my name.

And I must count all of my fingers,
and I must count all of my toes.
Just to make sure
that all of me came back home.
Before the tide comes in.