Washing out an impression.

As the waves pound the beach,

I am reminded, of how easily my footprints vanish.

Erasure of an idea, has never been this harrowing.

All I shall remember, is the vague image, of a distant feeling.

A drawing on the beach, now taken into the hands,

Of the endless expanse of water.

The comings and goings of the tide,

Is what I dwell on, to be a constant reminder,

Of the complexity of life, of how an idea once was but now, never is.

I draw and draw, hoping that this time, it shall remain,

Disappointment proves otherwise, until I realize,

The warmth of the water on my feet,

The gentle repertoire of salty waves,

The sweetest joys of this  day,

Are what I have been missing all along, trying to make an impression,

Of what will never be.

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