time has broken your wings.
gliding along the past,
you’ll show the sea how to cry for you.
lying upon the sands,
you’re choking on the air that once gave you flight.
you look into the beady eyes of death.
the winds travel past the sea oats giving them movement,
a cold reminder that grips your heart.
your breathing has slowed,
marked by each wave that brings itself closer to you
with the turning of the tides.
this morning, you met the sun with it’s rising,
and tonight it will lay with you as you sleep.