Veiled

Back and forth, you rush playfully

like a pup playing with a bee;

yet it concerns my motherly heart

are you truly free as you seem to be?

 

As sweet as gale you sing endlessly;

yet bitter as gall can be.

Is the dissatisfaction so vexing?

Tell me my dear old sea.

My skies bow down to you,

my child befriends your tides,

underneath the depth of those blues, lies the dirt I extend to you.

 

What else must I do my love, to calm your roiling soul?

Past those euphonious roars show me the void,

the ache I could console.