The Woman by the Sea

There was once a woman,

Standing by the sea.

She would glance over here and there,

And then, she'd glance at me.

She'd walk on over, gently and with grace.

She could well see the scars on my face.

She'd smile and pretend that they weren't there.

She'd laugh and say she's seen them everywhere.

There was once a woman,

Who I once adored.

Who I once cared for, and loved, and with who I soared.

She had been an ally, a beauty, with purpose brilliantly designed

To create wonder, to create magic, and leave darkness behind.

She knew where the cracks in the surface lay, and how to hide them well.

She didn't have to show herself; it would be against the tell.

I wonder now how she came to the sea.

I knew that's what she'd wanted, to be, really, free.

I could care less about her follies of the past.

Those, we know, are not meant to last.

What I wanted to know is how she came to sea

And, after all this time, still say, "This is not where I'm meant to be."