The horizon is 2/3 sky, 1/3 ocean. Derisive waves evermore lapping upon the reflective sand. Today the horizon leans, tilting towards memories of Nancy and I on the beach. Sitting on the beach. Walking on the beach. Running on the beach. Playing on the beach. Struggling on the beach. Stumbling on the beach. No longer able to walk on the beach. The waves continue to wash ashore mocking the tilted horizon, caring not whether memories be good or bad. An eternal, unconcerned washing up of memories wave upon wave upon wave upon wave.