I haven't thought about it
in a while,
that time I carved thin marks in
the sand with a
razor blade.

But as I was sweeping the beach,
I found them, now old
and barely there,
yet still present and visible
in the sun.

Eventually someone would
notice them, perhaps
as they stepped through
barefoot and sticky
from the sea.

I'm sure someday
all the footprints
from other people's lives
will erase the little marks
and all else besides.

I waited until the darkness
brushed its hand through
the sand
and the moon took the tide up
to wash them away.