Your Surface caresses – the face –
Warm when the Sun is high,
When the Storm brews – you’re like a Whip –
How the Stars and Moon weigh,

Affecting your Tide upon us
Your Voice – is convincing –
Your Whispers – like Salt – on our wounds,
Though, through castles – slicing –

Built towards the Sky – by guided hands –
Curling over, crashing
Onto – raw – from tears shed – your Storms –
Born from Vengeance – washing –

Tainting what is held at – the heart –
Walls – swallowed – by shallow
Bitterness forced – our way – footprints
Swept – yet – we will follow