THE BEACH WHERE THE SUN FELL DOWN

THE BEACH WHERE THE SUN FELL DOWN

I went walking on the beach one day,
when the sun fell out of the sky,
it landed softly upon the sand,
and nobody asked it why.

It did not splash into the sea,
or disappear beneath a wave,
it melted red and orange gold,
like something the heavens gave.

The beach began to change its shape,
the cliffs leaned out to see,
and strange tall shadows crossed the sand,
then walked into the sea.

I saw the bones of broken boats,
still dreaming of distant lands,
and pieces of forgotten days
lay scattered through my hands.

A woman stood beside the tide,
her dress was made of flame,
I called to her across the shore,
but she had lost her name.

She pointed towards the setting sun
and said, “That belongs to you,
it holds the days you left behind
and all you are going through.”

The sea turned black, the sand turned red,
the sky began to bend,
I could not tell where land began,
or where the waves would end.

I watched the colours twist and run,
like memories set free,
each one became a little boat
and sailed away from me.

There went a laugh from long ago,
there went a childhood day,
there went the hand I used to hold
before it slipped away.

But one small light stayed on the shore,
it would not join the rest,
it warmed the sand beneath my feet
and settled in my chest.

I looked again—the woman had gone,
the beach was calm once more,
but melted gold and burning red
still danced along the shore.

Perhaps the sun falls down sometimes
to show us what remains,
after life has washed away
our footprints and our names.

And perhaps the things we think are lost,
are never lost at all,
they are painted on another sky,
waiting for night to fall.