The rain
turns mournful grey -
the sea has drowned itself;
my Love is a stone cast by waves
ashore.

One day,
the shifting tides
will grind my grief to sand;
grains of me will flow to shell beds
of dreams.

One night,
a strand of pearls
from the old stone of Love
will circle heartbreak on a young
girl's breast.

Stroking
the silken orbs,
vague dreams will emerge - the
heart's oceanic rhythms in
her soul.

Her tears
in the moonlight
will spill in the darkness,
comfort in a mother of pearl's
embrace.