We lay there on the floor,

me my pen and pad,

as I'm staring at the door,

remembering the way you'd cry,

when I refused to look

into your blue eyes,

even though it'd feel

like a thousand lives

with out you before me

as if you were gone,

wishing I could see

another cloudless dawn

with you by my side,

and my pen in my hand,

my past will reside,

in the the warm beach sand.