While we walk home along this lonely beach
Ships passing in the night do run aground.
The lukewarm sand your feet can hardly reach.
To watch your sorry figure I look 'round.
Though we have taken thousands of steps each,
Only few of my footprints I have found
When looking backwards o'er my shoulders. Screech!
Screech out in pain and let out your first sound!
Your lips do move. My echoes do abound.
To me you keep on sticking like a leech.
Would you drift with my body if I drowned?
The dusk has come near. I must feel alone.
O that you might appear, I wish you shone!

(Author: EDEN SANTOS OLIVEIRA)