Caught in the tide
PIECES of driftwood on the beach Some at hand, some out reach Like headless people so far apart In thought, action and in heart Pieces of driftwood washed by the tide Buried in sand as if to hide From the miseries of this earth.
One lonely seagull cries with mirth
Pieces of driftwood ride the waves
Helpless in their search for graves
Just as the youth of our time
Caught in the tide of
Revolt and time.
Meryl Tookaram