“The stories she told! I don’t see ‘er so well now, yet she’s in my heart still telling stories.”
“She must have been an interesting woman.”
“My Lasse, she was no woman unless women are made of water and shells. No, she’s the sea! The sea is the best storyteller.”
The tendon snaps;
you cry for anyone to come,
yet no one can hear you in dark.
Limping loudly along;
you wish for the comforts of home,
to take back those words you said before.
The trap you found;
you scream knowing no one can hear,
as the light of the moon dims, disappears.