Looking into her eyes

Is to look into the Skerries sea,

on a silver morning.

The lacing of winter branches

reminds me of

the fall of her dark curls.

The touch of her kiss

is wine to me,

her tiny embrace

more precious than air.

When she’s gone,

I’ll not place her, alone,

in the cold dark earth.

I’ll offer her to the sky and the sun,

set her free to roam,

as she never could before.

And then, when the wind blows,

I’ll always feel her,

close all around me, like a hug,

hear her breathing

in the sigh of the breeze