Fading Footprints in the Sand

We walked that beach

like we’d never leave it—

our footprints bold,

pressed deep into the soft shore,

two lines side by side

etched into a golden afternoon.

You laughed like the ocean

could never take you,

your hair a storm

of wind and sunlight.

I memorized the sound,

knowing it would fade faster

than the tide allowed.

The waves were gentle,

but they had a purpose.

Each one curled in,

kissed our marks,

and took a little more of us away.

I didn’t stop walking

when you let go—

your hand slipping from mine

like sand through fingers.

I kept moving,

but slower,

dragging shadows beside me.

By the time I turned around,

your steps were gone.

Only mine remained,

barely visible,

blurred by the hush of time

and the weight of remembering.

Funny how something

as soft as water

can erase what felt

so permanent.

But I still see you there,

in the in-between spaces—

where the ocean forgets

and the heart refuses.