Cold Stone Floor
Round the point
a ship is sailing
her lost love against
the railing, waving
calling out her name
and yet the wind
blows on the same
blowing seaward
ever onward
ever leaving
just a flicker
of a wavering
dying flame
Ah, sweet friend
this day must end
but none can ever
really mend
what is broken
in your heart
a simple thing
his simple token
simple words
yet barely spoken
now blow against
the broken door
and lie in fragments
sharp and shining
shining on
the cold stone floor.
Copyright © Florian Beauchamp | Year Posted 2012
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