High above us- turning the waves;
Boiling in light of what we have made.
Floating away, don't leave me soon.
The seas are at torment under the moon.
And I don't quite know what storms may come,
Washing away the sky and the sun.
With the wind smelling of sweet despair,
I wake on the sands to find you're not there.
And I don't understand what you try for.
Isolated on land and yearning for so much more.
I know, I know, you'll escape soon.
Riding the waves under the moon.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs