Beachcombing by Donald Patrick

On the last day of my number
I count as many pieces between the stones
On the beaches of the banks I walk along
And I don't think I'll miss this number when it's gone

No, it's not like you remember
I count as many right as I was wrong
And we did see we were dancing all along
So I don't think I'll miss that memory when it's gone

On the first day of my number
I count as many spaces between the lines
On the places of the table where we dine
And I think that I'll miss this number when it's not mine