Your eyes are waterwheels
like high seas in the wind
Dante umbrella
love's happy suicide
kiss me at noon tide,
feast on lips of starving waif
face turned up to greet the sun
your breast -a brave moor
of breeze sworn content
each salty sweet spray
a crag at dawn
whispering o'er forlorn waves,
breathe in this- still of morn
cheek pressed to blue ribbon sky
dream of me and wonder why.

God can be so cruel sometimes
when morrows reach so far away
and your sail - a dot of horizon
and the space between
a watery grave,
these eyes are water wheels
splashing...