I had ditched my slippers,
Useless and heavy as they were,
Full of beach sand, dragging me behind.

Not that I hated my slippers,
I really liked them.
One of them once said 'FOR' and the other 'EVER',
Of which only the 'F' and 'ER' now remained.
(I told people it said FÜHRER.)

The sea promised it'd wash away the sand,
And I had fallen for the sea a long time ago, so trusting him was easy.

I left my slippers and started walking barefoot
With sunset in my eyes.
Then the waves stole them.

Devastated, I rushed,
The sea drawing its sands back urgently,
Its roaring waves slapping me,
Citing remainders,
And hindsights and insticts at me.
Not the slippers, I was praying to Poseidon.

I found them lying on the beach,
Squeaky clean.
I decided to walk barefoot, holding my forever in my hands.