— Mel Morrison
Old pain is stirring, Lost love hurting. Storms are brewing.
High tide rising. Tears are flowing. My Heart is sinking.
Waves are tossed about. Boat out to sea. Soul begins to sink.
Lost soul; an eerie calm; the wind whispers, “now do you believe?”
Whispers fade away. The wind blows no more. The seas calm.
The storms subside. A mellow sun appears. The search begins.
My heart is waiting. Debris is washed ashore. Your picture…
Soul is longing. Low tide is residing. A life vest appears.
An eerie calm; fate is near. The search is called.
Death chases hope. The sun sets below. Lost love beckons my soul.
The deep calls to me. The answer is belief. Conquer death and fear.
Chills are stirring. My lost love at sea. The deep asks, “Will you come to me.”