By the coast of rotting clams I sat in our Cavern, I was waiting for the waves to take me to you The scattered driftwood I made for our fire still stood, The seagulls cried as I read your message in the sand, I watched the black tide of vines thickly fall, The stench of salt dried my mouth, And all I felt was the tepid lapping of water surrounding me. As a child I would make sandcastles in here, Safe from clumsy feet they would stand majestic for days, Now as a man I return full of fear, Love never dies, it stays. As the water level rises, the stalagmites press harder against my flesh, The water feels cold, But I am not fighting for breath. Then I am standing by your side holding hands on the beach, Your watching a young boy making sandcastles in a cave, You look at me, looking at the sea, And seagulls cried as I looked at my grave. (for the old me )