The course grains felt rough against her skin,
from hindrance to pain- it grew as she went on,
etching every name she knew,
each stroke a memoir of the time,
a remnant of the memories-
how her heart throbbed, how her mind churned,
how the pit in her was void once,
and over-flowing the next.
And told was she- not to remember these,
why bother when none bothered.
But deep within, in the serene depths,
the trails left by the chaos yearned for release
for a closure and end to the torments.
Her memories were great than the days,
her regret- greater than them all.
Every spilled red was another drop of repentance,
every scar of the sand- a release of another string.
In this monotone world-
the nature of nature was in gray-scale,
still, regardless of the empty shades,
she believed in the wind and shades,
in the waves of the ocean and rain on the plane.
Gifted in silence for the credence
with hope from the comfort she left-
leaving behind her footprints,
along with the names in the sand.