Lines

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