I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges
of ancient cliffs above the shallows
of a rough Dover sea.
My feathers gleam in the beam of
the lighthouse where gentle swells
pulse against hollow bones that in
pale blue dreams you hold tenderly
in your palm like a treasured pearl.
We have abandoned the lighthouse
that seems to lean closer to the sea
waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.
The beam has ceased its search,
still each time I pass by I tip my wing.
Art by R. Simon