Wake

I turn to look behind as I sail. I see the white foam and wavelets, The bits of floating seaweed. I imagine the fleeing creatures Momentarily pushed aside Then forgetting the moment.

This is my life. Along my path I can easily see the recent past And I try to imagine its effect. Further back it fades, Too far to see Too much to remember. Ahead, the sky and sea meet. There is foam on the water. Whose life was that?