By Fredy Lowe —— Bio and Archives--December 31, 2020
“Loose from my moorings and drifting fast;
Ah, but the waters are bleak and vast!
Ah, but the ocean is wide, is wide,
And I’ll not be back with the turn of the tide.
I’ll not be back when the rip tides change
And, whitely, the beaches their fingers range.
Never a pull of the moon or heart
Can summons me back from my journey’s start.
And, only the cargo I take with me,
Will portion my way on that perilous sea
Where only the sound of a silent prayer
May fathom the waves of the outer air”…
- Edna Garde (see conclusion...)
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