MISTRESS OF THE SEA
The faery lass stands upon her steeds of foam
that surge and dive, but she knows their ways
and steers them to calm paths when she can
lest they fling her upon rocks
they do not see.
She sees the ripples that spread about,
these rings that wed one drop to another.
They are the face of the sea
upon which she gazes.
A smile she seeks
for she knows she will not drown
that day, but oh
when they frown she trembles,
for waves -- like fists -- will move against her
and she may slip beyond foam to the brine below,
where she cannot see the sun...
The depths are like her heart,
and she can only hold her breath
for so long.
+ By John Rieping
that surge and dive, but she knows their ways
and steers them to calm paths when she can
lest they fling her upon rocks
they do not see.
She sees the ripples that spread about,
these rings that wed one drop to another.
They are the face of the sea
upon which she gazes.
A smile she seeks
for she knows she will not drown
that day, but oh
when they frown she trembles,
for waves -- like fists -- will move against her
and she may slip beyond foam to the brine below,
where she cannot see the sun...
The depths are like her heart,
and she can only hold her breath
for so long.
+ By John Rieping
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