(March 19,1955 / Fayette, Alabama)

Evening Tide

The tides of eve
Are rolling in,
Although the sun
Shines bright.
The gales of distruction
Looks bleak at morality
At the peak
Of the noonday sun.
The clouds cover
The graying skies
As man is windswept
Beneath the tides.
Sounds from the shore
Beats against the rocks.
Will man be man again?
Will we ever know?
The principles of life
Sets on Evening Tide
Who was really ready
For the lost virtues of this ride.

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