Won't you ask the shore
for things washed away.
All things, washed away
by the sounding sea.
Won't you mourn all things.
All things, washed away
as you sit ashore
quietly still.
As the sun comes down
and the tide starts to rise.
Won't you grasp the sand,
gently close your eyes, your hands,
and wait. Not long.
They're here.
Hear the footsteps near.
All things, once loved,
that loved you so.
Once washed away,
now washed ashore.
Surrounding you.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC