Frantic Tears
The wind howled like a banshee, through the trees it did moan,
As rain lashed against the window, a rhythm all its own.
Inside, a heart was breaking, a soul was filled with dread,
Frantic tears streamed down her face, for hope had long since fled.
Her lover, gone, a sailor lost, upon the raging sea,
His ship, a shattered memory, a phantom in the spree.
She clutched a faded locket, his picture worn and thin,
And whispered words of longing, a love that couldn't win.
The fire crackled softly, a flickering, dying light,
Reflecting in her tear-streaked face, a sorrow, dark as night.
Each gust of wind, a mournful cry, each raindrop, a despair,
A symphony of heartbreak, a burden she couldn't bear.
She paced the lonely chamber, a shadow in the gloom,
Her thoughts like tangled seaweed, lost in the ocean's tomb.
Her voice, a broken whisper, a plea to the unknown,
'Come back to me, my love, come back, and be my own.'
The night wore on, the storm abated, the dawn began to break,
But in her heart, the darkness lingered, a wound that wouldn't shake.
For though the storm had passed, the sea remained her foe,
And in her frantic tears, a love she'd never let go.
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