The hour was late
Upon her arrival
The moon stood full
And without rival
Her thoughts were pure
Although in a spiral
Her body porcelain white
Like the gown of a bridal
With hands and feet
Weary from the travel
And an aching heart
Where rest was vital
The longer she waded
The stronger the tidal
Until one evening
She fell suicidal
And she lost the will
For any survival
As she lay dying
Where love left her jaded
Broken down and used
Feeling completely degraded
Unware these currents
Are where he’s incarcerated
And wave after wave
He keeps her sedated
Riding every moment
So terribly frustrated
Her eyes burn with rage
Blind to knowing she’s appreciated
Her soul out of control
And slightly tainted
A mouth full of salt
And truths complicated
Wave after wave
Keeps them segregated
Night after night
Though she waited
Sigh after sigh
Was poorly translated
Cry after cry
Unsubstantiated
But this is the love
They both have awaited
She built a raft
And sails towards love created
I hope this time
Her heart is illuminated
© Delia Ross. 2019
Let’s hope all the lights will be eventually turned on….
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I really hope so! Normally I am the lighthouse but these are muddy waters!
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This one is my favorite poem….
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I’m very glad to hear this, Navin! Thank you! 💞
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You’re very welcome, Delia ❤️✨
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