Names etched with love
Impressions on the sands of time
Constantly being caressed by the waters
Being washed, cleaned and smoothened.
Sometimes trodden upon and ruffled.
Except in the memory of time
Some stay a while, others just for a wave or two.
In the end, merging with the sea.
The waters, the sands and time playing this game
Since before the beginning of time.
Is there really a start and a finish?
Or is it just a perfect circle?