The ocean with its candle,
A lighthouse above these tears.
Walking with the folded pages,
Carrying more than weight to handle.
A perfect neck, once kissed
While weeping through sincerity
As its blessing died in vanity.
I pulled back the curtain
To find the waves –
Sending back what was lost,
A love that gave into her gravity.
I signaled for the world to falter
Its motion in curvature,
That I might run this course
Over sadness to its waste.
With back to the miles,
To the greater years worth saving.
With tears fallen towards distance in pacing
On to a frozen sunrise, forgotten smiles.
With wind to the great expanse
Upon the ocean that never left,
With its face rippling in all that wept
There are curves kept to their marking.
I weep, while no one knows
This thought of you
Kept to these fingers, to turn the pages
Towards answers upon finality.
You are lovely with crown and curve,
Holding a smile, as though a tapestry
Reveals your tale to the bereaved
For those who die, those who leave.
Modern Romanticism 