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