Fishermen

Fishermen Sitting by the shore at low tide The morning breezing me just fine I am packing up hope in a bag While the fishermen are waving from the sea Dropping boxes and boxes of old memories No one will know who they are leaving behind Is it Margot or Isobel? Catching moons forever and watch them dissapear Under piles and piles of waery thoughts and secret beliefs Over the stormy ocean no falling stars to wish on Only the sound of the sea Drifters, Im losing the sound High tide is back bringing sunken treasure With a full bag i wonder where to bury these words To make me forget they dont belong here Im losing the sight of the sea Drifter Im losing the sight