The Fall

Your movements falter, stumbling off the ledge.

The long, hurtling stretch of space in between

Excludes those wishing to cross the fine edge

To keep you aloft and here still with me.

The salt spray tinctures your hair to a gray.

The winds carve creases within your smooth brow.

Enveloped in chills, your skin’s like mache.

The waters rush towards you, ending time’s vow.

With you now long gone, to whom will I turn?

Gazing eyes over the deep precipice.

Your body’s consumed, vanished to the urn.

Gone from my hands and sunk into abyss.

A dirge plays softly from long, plangent waves.

Goodbye, it says, to our dear bygone days.