Upon the verge where sky and ocean meet,
I gaze upon the moon with heavy eyes;
Her silver light makes bitter distance sweet,
For she reflects the glory of your skies.
This empty bed is like a winter’s field,
Bereft of sun, awaiting spring’s return;
My heart to sorrow does refuse to yield,
While for your touch, my very soul doth burn.
Though leagues of brine may keep our hands apart,
And silent wires carry words of love;
No earthly span can sever heart from heart,
Nor break the bond watched by the stars above.
So let the hourglass run its weary sand,
Until the moment of our sweet embrace;
When I shall hold again your tender hand,
And find my heaven in your lovely face.
In the tradition of the great Romantics, this verse explores the paradox of separation: physical distance only serves to tighten the spiritual knot. It speaks to the resilience of a love that defies geography, promising that the joy of reunion will far outweigh the sorrow of the wait.
