the pale moon lit her blushful face,
As she walked there across the piers
her head held high. Beneath her grace
The wooden docks absorbed her tears.
The night was a canvas of a dream,
Yet lacking artist’s subtle hand,
a splashing sorrow, the river’s stream
Flowed down the veins of no man’s land.
Forsaken land was hers to thrive,
the moon just witnessed this above:
Her graceful walk,
her oath to strive,
All by herself. With her long lost love.