Coffins on the Shore

At low tide, the beach was covered with coffins.
For miles I walked, utterly baffled
And afraid that I had passed on to the other side,
And though I was tempted,
I dare not open a single one
For fear that I would see a familiar face.
The seagulls seemed not to think it strange.
They perched upon the coffins, and pecked
At their wings, and the tiny fiddler crabs
Maneuvered around them without a second thought.
The sun was singing its sepulchral hymn in the sky.
The waves persisted further into shore,
But somehow I felt that time had died
And nothing really existed anymore.
As I considered this, the caskets opened
And out walked all the forgotten figures from my dreams.
They paused, as if trying to remember,
And looking my way, remembering,
Walked into the sea.