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Nov 2016
It was the strangest of days,
That turned into the coldest of nights.
I lay there waiting for the Fisherman's return.
A promise of his blessing,
Before I headed out to warmer waters,
Until Summer was to return.
The red wine was now half empty,
The candles wax-ridden and burned.
The current shifted, it was time to return.
A fair maiden in a tavern,
Wrapped around the Fisherman's arms.
He gave her tokens she would treasure
I gave him curses of scorn.
Siren Coast
Written by
Siren Coast
927
   Allen Robinson and ---
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