Monday, May 10, 2010



At the waters edge,
she waits each day,

for the one she loved
and loves still to this day.

To give up hope of his return,
is to concede to death,

for to live without him,
would be a life of despair...
the darkness would engulf her.

The crashing waves below,
sometimes to her they beckon,
promising sleep below their surface.

The blackbird cries,
an invitation to death;
promising sweet relief
of her unending anguish.

She gives herself a shake,
and lifts her head up high,
reminds herself of his love,
and of his promise to return.

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