The tides began turning,
While once hardened boulders,
Turned into gentle sand,
Washing against my ankles,
Remind me of what I loved.

Don’t think I really changed,
Just forced myself into a mold,
Every model on my shelf,
Tucked away into the cave,
I find the strength to uncover,
A love lost to the pressure,
Of conforming to the tide.

The tides began turning,
While once hardened boulders,
Turned into gentle sand,
Washing against my ankles,
Remind me of how I loved.

I hated that I didn’t match the mold,
No matter how hard or long I tried,
The old crooked signs never lead me right,
Sending me back and forth between states,
So I built my own sign and forge my own path,
Cupped the love in the palms of my hands,
Held it close and took it with me on my journey.