on a cliff by the sea
there is a cottage
with a lighthouse rising up
behind the slightly slanted roof

though isolated, there is
no loneliness here
only the howling wind
and rolling grassy hills
dotted with daisies,
dandelions, and clovers

a bard resides there
that loved a sea captain
to the point of becoming
a beacon,
always more welcome than warning

and isn’t that a beautiful thing,
loving someone to the point
of creation?

after all, every living thing
needs some kind of constant

like a weather-beaten ship,
coffee always warm on the stove,

or a bard, tirelessly keeping
a light burning
in order to guide his
sea captain home