Her Love is Wind...

White wings soar, and gray sea mist glides;

though bright and golden, love is blind.

Her soul, like a breeze, will not bide;

for pretty vows are a chain that binds.

Her heart she yields to caring hands,

yet for no hand may the wind pause.

Her wings, a bastion to fate stands;

her shield from what is, from what was.

Broken and forgotten, am I,

and to the wretched sky I cry.