Her heart
beats in time
to funereal drums
The pyre of her love
burns
quiet ritual
of loss
out to sea
again
How many
strains of lamentations
will she write
in one lifetime
words
spill like tears
alkaline white
drying in splotches
In their grief
she listened
now in hers
she sees their
backs
The lonely bard
dips her pen
and finds
her own
solace
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