Her

She gazes across the golden sea

From her solid stance on the silhouetted cliff

Towering above the orange, foaming waters.

She stands, unmoving, silent and still,

Her flowing, dark hair unshaken,

Her sheathèd sword unwavering.

I watch her, amazement rising from deep within my heart

For her stamina, other-worldly strength and beautiful presence

Which dominate my thought.

I cannot bring my eyes to leave her,

Standing resolute, yet somehow vulnerable, against the amber dusk.

As the last arc of the solar globe dips below the farthest waves, she turns

And walks down the fading path leading back to civilization.

It is on this path I stand and wait for her.

Only her tear-streaked face betrays her reason:

She whom she loved is gone; lost on the whiskey-coloured sea.

Every sunset brings her back, at least the sliver of memory that remains,

And every sunset obligates her to honour the memory.

Someday she will no longer need to mourn for her mother, her once-solid rock.