The water laps softly against the sandy shore
In which our feet stayed buried,
Its clear coolness and the crisp evening air
Releasing us from our worries.
The clouds reflect moods of days gone past,
Yet the serene sunset is to our wounds, a cast.
Its’ fluid movement completely silent
To calm the nerves and mental violence
Brought upon us by the harshities of life,
The oncoming darkness erasing the fictional knife.
Here, at this shore, no one else matters,
So long as I can hear the soft pitter-patter
Of our feet in the sand,
Your hand in my hand,
Nothing else matters,
Not a thing people say,
So long as they don’t try taking all of this away.
The sky grows dark
And the wind starts to slow
Finally, the sun flickers out
Allowing the moon to show his magnificent
Glow.