In the seas of sadness the swirling ever lies as it smashes our brittle across the rocks and night.
Forgive me please of neediness whirling forever high as it’s a tattered spittal of moss, mocks and fright.
For all lands that set sun to the aft of fear, it is horizons stern that would bring distant shores near.
Although your charm is a wind that satiates aged sails full to steer, my hull is empty save that of the single candle with a quill wishing that you here.
-M