Christopher Haywood Poet Narrative

She Waits for Him

She wanders where the salt-mist clings, 
A pale silhouette on the shore, 
While in her heart, a sorrow sings 
For him who sails the deep once more.
Her gown is woven from the spray, 
Her eyes are mirrors of the tide; 
She watches through the dying day
With nowhere left for grief to hide.
The waves deliver only foam,
The gulls cry out a lonely plea; 
She waits for him to turn for home, 
From out the dark and restless sea.
Though seasons shift and stars turn cold, 
And years dissolve in silver light, 
Her vigil remains as it was of old, 
A phantom flame against the night.

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