The Woman on the Beach
By Mefk
Given up everything, she has fallen to her knees,
No more songs to sing or crowds to please,
She’s weary, tired and afraid of what’s to come,
She’s given up everything, she’s broken, cold and numb.
No more revenues or subterfuge, she’s taken what she can,
Her heart was sold, on a centrefold, a betrayal by a man,
Her joy confined, to a glass of wine, and a holiday in Nice,
The sun has come, to thaw the numb, and the cold to cease.
She counts grains of sand, piled in her hand,
She watches waves that dance,
Atop the sea, far from me, a lonely beach in France.
She’ll no longer trust, the men who fussed, over her looks and voice,
Her time her own, the beach her home, that’s now her choice.
You may glance a woman there, on a beach upon a chair,
And in her hand, a clutch of sand, gold dancing off her hair,
She’ll sing no song, nor sign her name, those days have come and gone,
For now her only company is a warm sun rising at dawn.
I think of her, her voice and face, memories of a distant place,
Where once she sang, and where echoes rang of talent gone to waste.
I heard she died, or someone lied, to keep her future clear,
I’ll visit that beach, just out of reach, in the hope she might appear.
She’ll count grains of sand, piled in her hand,
As she watches waves that dance,
Atop the sea, far from me, a lonely beach in France.
She no longer trusts, the men who fuss, over her looks and voice,
Her time her own, the beach her home, that’s now her choice.
If you see her there, upon that chair, watching waves atop the sea,
Say you heard me say, I rue the day, they betrayed her in that way.
And she might say, there is a way, that she might recover,
Memories of the family she left, now bereft, of a woman we called mother.
