She writes her name in sand dunes
As if expecting them to survive
Her gaze showing the pain
When the wave wipes away
Each letter, one piece at a time,
Her lips blue from cold
And determination
As if breathing in the blue
Of the vivid sea shore sky
that frames her face,
rewriting what was already written
to have it wash away again,
she, humming some old tune
in three-quarter beat
as the wind whips her hair
around her head
strands looking as white
as the surf that rolls
up to her feet,
ageless and yet in her eyes
a sense of lost time,
as she seeks to find immorality
between the broken sea shells
at the evaporating foam,
She, searching for peals
Among the ruins
sea gulls screeching over head
pursing the practical
feeding off the less fortunate
they find washing to shore,
And with a wave of her hands
She feeds them,
Even as her name fades,
Hoping they at least
Might remember her
Later.