Modern Romanticism

Your air, and my own

Drink wine, upon the cliffs

Where we may take sight of owls

Perched upon the top of boughs,

In this distant night.

For all I witness is the ocean,

With a phantom beside

Me, in the unfolded world.

Unfurled, are my lips

To taste the breezes, coming ashore.

Furled, are my fists

To feel my frustration, in your absence.

Blessed, are the ways of love

To leak from me, misguided protests, to the past,

When I should simply walk forward,

To join you in the tide.