Sandy Promises

On a warm spring afternoon by the shore, I sculpt your image in the golden sands, Each curve and line shaped with love, Our promises etched in fragile strands. But the restless tide sweeps in too soon, Washing away what we swore to keep, Like whispers lost upon the wind, Or fleeting dreams that fade in sleep. A fistful of sand, a world of hope, Yet through my fingers, the grains still slip, Much like the love we tried to hold, Now scattered with the ocean’s grip. The sunset paints the sky in gold, Our secrets rest in silent dunes, Yet very grain still holds our tale, A melody of love and wounds.