Discarded shells bereft of flesh.
The wind blows, the seagull cries,
My footprints are erased by the tide.
A bitter memory of happier times,
Before our love withered and died,
Leaves me to walk with faltering steps.
I am a shadow of my former self.
And so it is, mid-stride and mid-breath,
There's a phone call to tell me she's dead.
I'm alone, 'neath a dull grey sky.
The wind blows, the seagull cries.
This seashore is littered with death
And I have so many regrets.