Down I look, long strands of sand
I touch and the sensation burns my hand
Walking slowly, the hot, tough grains
Fill me with blistering pains
Feet in the water, I reach for nothing
For there is nothing in sight
I run back, holding myself tight.
Lonesome, alone on the beach

Then comes a bird, black and dark gray
Just that one bird
Swoops down a foot away
I whisper quietly but the little bird hears,
Comes closer, stays,
And flies back again, day after day.