Walking alone...

As I walked, along the beach,
Feet cushioned by hot sand,
Something cold, and almost dead,
Lunged forth to grab my hand.

The shock, it hit me like a train,
Almost began to flea,
But then it spoke, and its voice,
Was paralyzing me.

I turned to face this cold, dead thing,
Crouching on the floor,
Its appearance, so very sad,
I was scared no more.

Its skin was black, it had no eyes,
Three fingers on each hand,
Using them, to touch and stroke,
The very golden sand.

I stood there waiting, listening to
The soft sound of the sea.
This thing, still clutching to my wrist,
Then this it said to me:

"Why don't your friends, come out to play,
The weather is quite mild,
Or take a seat alongside me,
If you're alone my child."

"Yes I am, all by myself,
But tell me how you know,
That my friends, they will not come,
Tell me or I'll go."

For a moment, I could feel,
It staring hard at me,
Though it had no eyes, I somehow knew,
That really it could see.

"You see my child, I have a name,
And I only appear,
When you're alone, and on you own,
And sad inside my dear."

This thing it told me of its name,
At first it made me cry,
Then we spoke a little while,
And as time passed by,

Became happy and content,
And stayed with it forever,
Sadness lost, the tears they went,
Cry again? I'd never.

Its name was loneliness...