Two pairs of footprints knead the land.
I watch them as they make their flight,
Dark and hollow in pale moonlight.
Are their owners at home in bed,
Nestled together, head to head?
Or are they by a fireplace,
Deeply lost in the other's face?
I turn and see my own behind,
One pair is all that I can find.
I ask myself if that is fair,
And where is my own matching pair?
Far from this beach I'd rather be,
Because of the prints by the sea.
They remind me of all the pain,
The other heart I'll never claim.