Dead Grandparent

The Outgoing Tide

As surely as the tide will come

We know it cannot stay

Steadfast faith the sun will rise

We know it’s just the day.

The willow cannot help but weep

When winter drives with scorn

But even willow takes a pause

When spring again is born.

So when the tide had come and gone

The sun arose and fell

The willow tree had lost its buds

Were we to do as well?

But with the morning comes the tide

To wash away our tears.

The sun will rise to dry our cheeks

And take away our fears.