Notes drift on the current
Shadows glistening with moonlit dew
Forgotten shores whisper—
things we once knew.

Listen, listen, they sing like
Echoes from another world,
Tides etch tales on sand's soft skin,
Only to be lulled back in slumber.

A mockingbird on a distant branch,
It calls not to be heard,
But to remind us of things unseen,
The paths wane beneath the cast away's trust.