Guilt is a grey and desolate shore,
Abandoned many years before,
And you’re sitting on the sand alone,
While the wind calls out with a dreary moan.

The warm sand below, your body does charm;
Holds you like an infant in a mother's arms.
Although the comfort is all but a lie,
You lay your head down and slowly close an eye.

Through the stormy high-tides you sleep;
And slowly but surely the waves begin to creep.
You do not feel the icy water lick your toes,
Nor when it devours you in your ignorant doze.

Until one day you no longer roam the misty beach;
The waves have grasped you in their callous reach.
Swallowing you whole, beyond horizons ahead;
In a sea of apologies that were left unsaid.