Walking along the desolate seashore,
Hand in hand with the breeze,
I think of you and the last we spoke,
Exchanging farewell pleasantries;

The road I walk now along,
Winding with the golden strand,
Palisades of rocky cliffs, you'd love to see,
As I muse and grasp your ghostly hand.

Though you're not beside me,
You walk this path and gaze this shoreline;
For all seas converge, all roads diverge,
And all distances vanish with time.