I leave my cot and walk the beach, barefoot, <br /> My feet laved ling-ringly by the latest wave, <br /> Broken along the sloping shore, as it returns. <br /> My print is there, I know, upon the silken sand; <br /> I felt the pressure of my being make its mark <br /> Upon the yielding surface of the smooth wet mat, <br /> And stepping back a pace, can see the dent I made. <br /> <br /> But still I must not estimate above its due, <br /> The influence that I have had upon this strand, <br /> For though I build with busy hands a castle here <br /> It may well be tomorrow's walkers on this shore <br /> Will find no trace of it, for like the tide, <br /> Responding to the hand that made the waters stir, <br /> I come in -- I go out.<br /><br />Arnold Hounsom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wave-and-good-bye/
