• "When will your ship come in?"
    This sea of words, a storm.
    The lighthouse glows bright tonight,
    As the tide crashes into the rocks.

    The boatman's call so hollow,
    Cries across the ocean echo;
    "When will your ship come in?
    For many years have passed,
    I have sacrificed myself to sin."

    Published love in letters soaked,
    The sin wasn't hers, so provoked.
    Absence makes the heart grow fonder,
    And everything will eventually end.

    The heart and tides are a compass,
    To bring lost souls to nearby shores,
    Time keeps on ticking, closing doors.

    "When will your ship come in?"
    This sea of words, a storm.
    The lighthouse glows bright tonight,
    As the tide crashes into the rocks.

    I wondered, as I stared across the sea,
    If someone was out there waiting for me?