On a moon dim night such as this
One ponders
Looking towards the mist.
Eyes of hollowness
Gown all racked and torn
As its skirts across the cobblestones.
The house lays empty to the mortal heart
But creeping from a distant realm
Is a young woman who does not rest,
In tombs of marble and of wood.
She searches for a child you see
That was lost a fateful night
As she lay in sweat and pain.
For it has been hundred years or more-
For her son grew up without her,
Only to be lost from a shipmates voyage
In the distant land of Spain.
One ponders
Looking towards the mist.
Eyes of hollowness
Gown all racked and torn
As its skirts across the cobblestones.
The house lays empty to the mortal heart
But creeping from a distant realm
Is a young woman who does not rest,
In tombs of marble and of wood.
She searches for a child you see
That was lost a fateful night
As she lay in sweat and pain.
For it has been hundred years or more-
For her son grew up without her,
Only to be lost from a shipmates voyage
In the distant land of Spain.
-HRM Deborah
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