(This was a metaphor on the long distance my wife and I suffered. Two years on a screen)

Oh Lady Lost, amidst the fallen grass,
in Autumn where the chivalrous do see
that there beneath the candlelight’s soft blush,
a woman with no face lies down to grieve.

She mourns the fact that Light is now an outline
of what she hoped to hold in futures grace.
She sees her need across moonbeams crescent,
her love, her lust, an oath she set in place,

that one day soon into his arms she’d fall,
and then they two would stay forever sealed
together in this longest of embraces;
the truest of all loves will be revealed.

But hardened their two hearts in the shallows,
and stolen are the means they both require.
Passion moves about in jangled music,
while in their hearts remains a secret fire.

They want to touch, to know each other’s eyes,
they want to gaze in words from out their lips.
But this tale is longest in the making,
they live in different lands, on separate ships.