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The Wave

by Dorothy Murray


What is this wave which breaks upon the shore
Of my ageing mind washing it so clear
That nothing remains, no single line or mark
To prove that a second past a thought was there
A name, a person now forgotten, swept
Backwards by the tide into a vast ocean
Where it is tumbled until that certain force
Drives it forward once more upon the beach
Where I walk slowly filled with inward fear
That what my memory’s lost I may not see
Before the next wave, surging forward
Obliterates all in its driving thrust –
Yet still I stoop, hoping on that sand to find
A shell of thought, a wrack of my own mind.