I walked the beach, this morning, early. The waves still gentle, just a bit curly.
I looked at the traces I left behind, How fragile, how short lived came to mind.
They lived one or two waves long, at the most, Then washed away, blended and lost.
No track left, not even a hint in the sand. Only the pure and beautiful strand.
Such is one’s life, fragile and short, Treasure it, there’s nothing of the sort!
