I walked the shore one lonesome night;
a shore so far from your embrace.
I heard the waves lap at the shore
and heard the voice of the sweetly singing sea.
How dark it was; as my world always is
when you are not near to me.
What narrow beam of hallowed light
shown forth from the silent moon!
It comforted me in my despairing solitude
as I knew you may have been looking
at that self-same sky, that self-same moon.
How ancient her comfort is!
How ancient the concept of parted lovers!
I left but a single set
of impressions in the sand,
washing away with the lapping waves.
A solitary set of prints for a solitary heart,
quiet in it's dark encasement;
quiet in desperation for the sound
of singing angels in heaven,
known only to me as your voice!
I walked the shore one lonesome night;
with my eyes dry as the desert,
as they had forgotten how to cry.
In the darkness I could have not been alone,
but garish day had begun to break,
exposing my solitary walk
without the companion of my heart.
I stood and watched as the waves took the prints of my walk,
and saw that no wave could take your prints