I don't often do free form but I can think of no other way to put the
sadness I feel.

Underneath the whispering moon,
bedazzled with a halo of soft white and faint red,
I stand at the shore we love
the calm ripples of tides murmur,
swallowing other sounds with its gentle insistance.

Tears burn my eyes in the grayed, salty winds
but they are not shed for nature
voice cracks above it all as I cry out to Mother Moon
and my doubt tears painfully from my throat in sorrowed sobs

Exhausting my voice and the well spring within
I can only numbly envision the future years without you
Searing agony urges my mind to hastily draw back
from the heated sore of that thought

Lifting my body, unsteady legs already missing your strength,
I take a few deep breathes and pray silently once more
I pray for your return.
I pray for your safety.
I pray for myself to be strong enough for the children.
I pray not to resent the seas which bore you away from me.
Mostly, I pray for your return.

Please return.
I will wait.
Right here, watching the waters.
Right here.

I love you.


Penned by my hand on the 7th of Phaestian, in the year 440 AF.