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The night shade

A dark colonnade

The cypress, then the shore...

I sought comfort in the foam.

The wind heals the pain.

A pale November rises.

You know how in days gone by

Even night sought shelter

Under the plain masks of daylight.

Bitterness the wait:

We are the fruit of rainy hours.

As Ulysses looking seaward,

We mocked our innermost abodes.

We sailed on older seas

And reached the bounds of deepest water.

A wreckage in the rain

A wreckage in the rain

But the wind heals the pain.