Left Behind

A young woman waiting by the edge of the sea for her lover to return, a ghost who has lost and is withering where she lost her love.

Watch her there, she who dances by the sea

To what tune we do not see

For it is spoken to her in the sea

A secret dance, a hidden sound, played alone

For her own ears, a lovers whisper , an ancient tale

Founded by her, she with this burden to bare

Watch her now, as the tears fall upon her graceful cheek

The hand outdrawn towards the depths

A look of haunting sorrow within her glistening eye

The light house she be, the only light for the sea

For she is a glimmer, the ghost of the waters be

Her tale be unknown, but is it so hard to see?

Her heart be taken by one of the sea

One who left long ago, never to be with her warm skin again

A floating whisper, a wish, a dream, feather light, against the winds of the sea

A heart that will always belong, this promise, this kiss, we see

A stolen life, she be, a stolen soul to wander the world , alone

To dance to the tune of the stolen , to dance to the rhythm of the waves

As they crash against her, merciless, she will never leave

For he is there, she feels him, she hears him, she sees him in her minds eye

For this tune that we do not hear, is he, singing to her, by the bed of his grave

Watch her eyes, watch as her heart fills them with its beating pain

The heartbreak born of the seas temper , born of the lash of Poseidon’s whip

A cruel demise , she longs for one, taken , taken, taken by the sea

Night falls, people pass, but do not stop, to save the girl who dances still by the sea

Her weary heart, more alive than anyone else , for her heart is beating for two,

Her sorrow, and her resistant strings that will not cut,

Not even to let her pass, pass this pain, pass this life, without the one who made it worth

Living, so watch this girl, for she is the paper, she is the paint, she is the writing of a tale

Played out, in a soulful dance, in whispers of her feet as they brush against the sand

Every movement is a word, is sentence, is brushstroke against the canvas,

She is the tale, she is the lasting words, that breath of her lost ones existence.

Watch this love , divine, against the harsh drops of the sea.

For it will never be again