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Andrew Ellenberger


Reckoning of the Waves




Must have been long before the tides had turned, I saw my evening song's belle,
Her hair was flaring, scarlet as her hands, this life everlasting to tell,
And who would be seated now, at her table, set so oddly for three,
Just her, myself and the chrysanthemum,
This life, this breath, so lovely to see,
that you are simply the darkest above, shattering against the day,
Hovering above in desolate waste, those crafts have since returned,
Aligned with her sovereignty's golden beams, staunch bargain relayed,
To those sitting precariously, in hand in hand, those passions burned,
Now, surrender, to that night, where flowers bloomed, caressed in light,
Now your windows lit, candle in ever' pane, to see this lovely delight!