The storm has fled, yet heavy hangs the air,
A silence cold that chills our sweet despair.
I hear your sigh ascend into the night,
A wounded ghost that seeks the morning light.
My pride, that tyrant built of stone and vain,
Dissolves in tears like summer’s sudden rain.
I wielded words like daggers, sharp and cruel,
And played the part of heartless, haughty fool.
Behold, I bow my head and reach my hand,
To walk once more upon this golden strand.
Forgive the fury, wash away the stain,
Let peace descend to heal the throbbing pain.
For love remains a sky no wind can rend,
Beginning where my foolish errors end.
Come, let my kiss dry up the bitter tear,
And be my guiding star, forever dear.


