Sand in My Shoes

I remember the evening when we sat on the beach,
Waiting to see the sun set into the seas,
Staying there long after that,
Listening to the rumbling of the waves,
The foaming of it from black to white,
As it touched our feet, you retracting.

I remember you resting blithely on my shoulder,
Humming a tune that I will never forget,
The smell of wet sand, the sea, the saltiness,
The breeze, and all the joys it brought with it,
Earphones plugged in one ear of ours,
Your hair sweeping against my face.

I remember you speaking nonchalantly,
I lost in you, scarcely hearing what you had to say,
You were drowned in your whisky,
And once came this close to kissing me,
But then I turned my head,
And the peck fell on my arm.

We walked on the wet sand, creating footprints,
Sometimes tiptoeing to make children feet,
You sketched out our names in the wet sand,
And stood in front to guard it against the waves,
But the waves did come and wash it away,
And you came back, dripping and laughing.

Was I drunk too? I don’t remember,
But we trudged our way back through the sand,
My shoes were loose, and the sand seeped in,
Making slight bruises on my feet.
I carried you on my back, you were too drunk,
Until we reached the end of the beach.

Sand in my shoes, today they fall off,
I’ve washed them so that they no more remind me,
Of that evening when we promised to each other,
So many things that will never be kept,
But sometimes when I think of happiness that used to be,
I remember the evening when we sat on the beach.

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