A poem about lost love and survival. |
The dying sun sheds crimson gloom Across the sullen bay The witch-wind howls through naked trees And lashes ocean spray Down a darkened stoney trail A traveller makes his way A tattered cloak hides mighty thews Wind swept hair veils eyes But tear drops glisten on his face His gaze on scarlet skies A muffled sob, a shattered dream The bleeding sun, it dies Other dreams have gone before But this one hurts the most His golden angel shining bright Is but a fragile broken ghost Pain gleaming in his eyes He walks alone along the coast He stops to gaze around him To smell the keen salt air And glories at the twilight As the wind whips through his hair Standing tall against the night A fortress resting there The silver moon rides soft and slow It's light burns bright and clear Moon beams dance among the leaves And shyly hover near They play upon his lonely face And touch a glistening tear They stroke his rough unshaven cheeks And kiss his fevered lips Along his strong and hardened chest A gentle finger slips Another's playing in his eyes Where crystal water drips Bringing peace on wings of love To the traveller in their light They set his soul aflame with dreams And now his eyes glow bright As he sings a song against the wind And strides into the night |