Blues

When the tide chases the tide out again.
You will find me sitting wrestling with the tide.
I was a child of the beach. Constantly.
You see I left with him.
Summer is a vacation called California.
And that vacation was called… blues.
I finished school in sixth grade.
And we attended for enjoyment.
But memories are a sheet of paper
and I am a linguistic.
And the game is called blues.
And I walked the streets not so safely
and the game made my heart beat
and the beating kept me laughing and alive.
And the lying. O the lying was the tide.