Under twilight skies, the sands lie cold,
Quiet shores in silver shape.
Waves kiss the shore, a delicate compass,
As mysteries in the shadows creep.
I walk alone where shadows fall,
Where sea murmurs, weak and little.
My means sink somewhere down in grains so fine,
Leaving follows, faint plan.
Impressions stretch, a peaceful way,
Driving ahead, no repercussions.
Each imprint a second, brief and clear,
A memory carved, yet bound to vanish.
The moon above, in careful elegance,
Sees each engraving time can’t eradicate.
They blur with tides that ascent and stream,
Like passing contemplations, similar to dreams we know.
A shell underneath my foot I feel,
When lively, presently its varieties seal.
It tells a story of life once brilliant,
Presently supported in the quiet of night.
Impressions blur as waves come in,
A quiet wash, where tides start.
An imprint left momentarily on the shore,
A story gone, forevermore.
I leave this ocean side, its sands cleaned off,
By hands inconspicuous, a power tranquil.
However in my heart, those prints remain,
A 12 PM walk, a delicate refrain.
For on this shore, underneath the stars,
I tracked down a spot to leave my scars.
Impressions washed, however recollections keep,
Of murmured waves and waters profound.
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