Moisture burning her vision.
In the dark, it hides her eyes.
Clinging onto her, one falls onto her lap
and stains her skirt.
Tell her it will be okay.
That the shadow of a moment
may not stretch into tomorrow’s light.
That the ocean,
at its blackest
is still a reflection of the sky,
and she will not drown.
But the tide has come to take you home.
To her smile and her strength
she bids farewell.
Her heart, a piece borrowed and now returned,
departs with you.
She says goodbye.