She stands upon the frigid Dover cliffs.
Pulls closer to her breasts her favorite wool coat.
She looks out on the Atlantic the icy mist mixes with her sadness.
He steers his ship into the dark night.
The moonlight his only guide.
The sea called him when he was but a child.
Her blue eyes like a temptress has lead him to this fate.
For the sea must not be denied her due.
The waves crash across the bough, he understands his grip has ended.
As the freezing rain spots her love worn face, she feels the salty tears of loss.
-Johnny V.
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