Now far from shore
where long before 
she stood fearlessly,

She drifts at sea,
floats back to me,
brings me songs of lore.

Under full moon
she calls—a loon;
sings a lullaby.

First low, then high,
sweet by and by,
soon and very soon...

The grey wolf howls,
with peace he prowls,
will not leave her side.

Nowhere to hide
her heart abides,
tosses in the towel.


The new page turns,
old story burns.
She dances in flame,

no longer lame,
out of the game.
Seeking truth, she learns.