The Wounds at Which She Bled
The wind raised the wave with pleasure over and over,
exploding with its weight embracing the jagged rocks.
Seeing the aged shoreline spread like an endless rover,
of eroded pinnacles. No ship dare seek its locks,
for its nonexistent shore has suffered severe shocks.
She hugged her woolen shawl, tightly around her shoulders,
to ward off the chill, and walked along the cliffs, looking
out onto the sea. Waves crashed against battered boulders,
stirring the cool mist and briny fragrance. Concealing
the love she once shared, but lost to the seas bewitching.
English Quintain, ababb, 13 syllables
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017