Snow falls, weaving lace from a forlorn sky
that caresses the tender edges of sand dunes.
Indigo waves buoy lamented lullabies,
filling empty drifting bottles
with salted cold foam.
Gulls screech,
shrill with curses
at the winking lighthouse
taunting the winged rats
with its cold, unreachable glow.
Silver threads of moon beams
luminesce the stardust under my feet;
my toes sink in as I pirouette
among other forgotten things:
bits of shell, braids of seaweed,
and stones of glass made smooth
by the ever-changing tides.
A clock washed ashore,
devoid of hands,
chimes notes for the unknown hour.
My footprints leave a path behind me
softly whispering my name
to the wind that welcomes me home.