Now and then,
I have a day
of forgetting that I am.

I ride the ghost of this wave
‘fore it crashes to shore
to be built back to rock from the sand,

or at least to make castles,
with careful pressing of hands.

Until surf’s up again,
I must stay on the land.

Until this day returns,
I will do what I can.

I will do what I can,
I will do what I can.