The woman walks along the lonely shore
past shells that turn to dust beneath her feet;
the waves that kiss her toes too soon retreat
to leave them only colder than before.
Each strand of hair, the gentle winds explore
and tease the curves where neck and shoulder meet,
but like the breaths that once had whispered sweet,
the woman can not hear them anymore.
The woman scoops the sand from ocean floor
and silently the breezes blow each grain
from longing fingertips that wait in vain;
their emptiness, she's trying to ignore.
Her eyes cast upward, seeming to implore
the universe to help her ascertain
if love's sweet sigh has passed, or should remain
a woman in her hope forevermore.
The woman watches sea birds as they soar
oblivious to laws of gravity,
and wishing she could only be as free -
escaping from her own internal war.
She never thought she would be praying for
release from love beside expanse of sea;
where earth and sky refuse to disagree,
the woman strains to mend a faith now torn.
The woman, seeking solace, finds the core
of sorrow, and she traces single tear
through memories of but one blessed year
transcending the unfeeling ocean's roar.
The winds are blowing colder than before,
as sun departs and beckons nighttime near
the stars all seem to wink, then disappear...
the woman still is walking lonely shore