standing by the ocean on an overlooking cliff
high above the crashing waves, look down, but do not slip.
loneliness goes spotting by like rising, cresting ships
a chill-breeze blowing through the skin, the ever-present whip.
traverse the path, descend the hill, a choice not made today
attraction to the shallow words is not a game she’ll play.
negotiating banter far below her sea and sky
drains anticipation in such ways could make one cry.
an apathy of gossip dreams burns brightly under skin
the smiles she loves, but fearful she, now of such mark’ed din.
standing on the cliffside looking down, but not to judge
to breathe the quiet and to lush the breezes of the flood.
the calming piece, serenity, oft hiding in its grave
such thoughts of she come waking,
wake the one that would be saved.