She scribbles endlessly,
waiting for her true love to see
the aching in her wanton heart
pen'd in crimson's darkly hue'd soul
inky passages of the past
when the sun still shine'd a'glow
and all was write with the world

As the wind rushes over the moors
she thinks of her Heathcliff'd dreams
reverie of timely love season'd skies
when spring sprung eternally
old man winter was only a notion
frozen in another's memories
til stormy nights overcame the fantasy

Still, she revisits her place in the sun
bleeding out on paper without conscience
a wavering inner voice triumphs demurely
as emotions spill over the tethered wastelands
once a land of wide open lush filled pleasures
this place now only a reminder of tormented defeat
yet, her resolve for passion's affection remains