She saw a poet under dark drenched skies
And, for a moment, danced a smile again.
The night of hair and storm in green-gray eyes--
The rising wind surrounds her in the rain.
With sweetest voice and power of the lark
She takes the steps, a bridge she does not know
Comes to her through the misted cover dark,
And footprints follow, leading her too slow.
The rain grows weak, yet washes all the sin
That time before us never locked away;
It's two more steps that pushes her within,
The bridge is left amidst its lonely sway.
    And mystery consumes her very soul;
    A priceless strength to which she paid the toll.