Speak to me of a memory that ran into the sand
taken by the high tide drifting away
but at low ebb glitter on the lonely strand.
Speak to my memory as seen in a child`s eye
when my mother was young and danced
had laughter on her lips and stars in her eyes.
Speak to me memory in the haze of dreams
when life was lovely, and summers were long,
hold on to your vision of yore until your life ends.
Speak to me a memory of your time as a seaman
when life was often sad, but books made you sane
in every port a letter from your mother.