With my heart dying and my soul long dead,
I feel the soft sand beneath my warm bare feet.
I remember long ago when I would write
my trouble in the sand and watch, smiling,
as the waves washed my words and my cares away.
But that was then and this is now.
I was young and now I”m old.
My son played beside me and now he plays no more.
I know the waves can’t wash away the pain
or loss, the grief and sorrow.
The shimmering sunrise no longer holds hope
for a new start, a new day.
His life WAS, his absence IS.
The shadows around me move pointlessly,
slowly toward nothing.
Writing in the sand with my tears
falling like scars into its softness.
As the waves crash around me,
I struggle to remember.