I strain to appear alive
To appease my closest kin
I move what is left within my control
My exuberance fleeting and all too soon spent

Straining to look vibrant!
Yet I tilt at the whim of death
Shifting, as the earth pulls away
Tearing aimlessly into a newborn day

Straining to hold…
As acceptance casually descends
Faltering slow, as winter commands

“You’ve squandered your time”
The tide coldly beckons
Swallowing, the wasted remnants of what was

“There is no longer a need to stir my child
For this heroic calm is here to stay”