Give me a song, worth singing from the heights of a clifftop,
over to calm the raging seas,
a pinnacle point, to quash the rage of the oceans.
Come to my side, in the pouring rain and howling wind.
Let the squall lash your dark hair across your pale face,
turn your seagreen eyes unto mine night sky blue's.
Here layeth the raging storms of torrential emotion,
which poured forth from a broken, bruiséd and shattered heart.
Here you sung to the storms, though they railed against you,
your steady, confident gentleness soothed the wrath away.
Now together, within my walls we sit and confide in each other,
share long passed secrets and long lost stories.
Between the walls, you and I, we grew to love, in secret,
though quiet, our love grew warmer day to day.
Turning to replace the storms of fear, to storms of passion.
And the vessels of our hearts deftly skim the waves of our love,
no serpents from the deep snap at the keels anymore,
as together we conquered them.
On days of calm we sit among the shingle beaches,
to watch the warming sunset on our heart-boats.
Your hand in mine, like crossed oars, a fishing-village marriage,
no one can help but smile at us, even the wizened old skippers,
they say our love is a beacon brighter than the lighthouse.
I heard folk tales of you and I,
from the days when I used to read to the seas,
to calm them for the fishermen.
They said the seas listened to me,
the fabled merfolk too.
A long time passed since you were a dancer,
on the breakers my love,
you were taken by the sea with a wrong step,
but the sea gave you back,
gave you to me.
You heard me reading, they say,
and remembered who you are,
and remembered your heart,
and remembered you love.
As we sit here now, the clifftop, our pinnacle adored,
I smile to you and silently thank the seas,
for bringing you back to me.