She came with the tides,
her scent in every grain,
her face in every cloud.
She always left me
and I wondered why
I always went back.
One year I lost her
Amongst the crashing waves
And the painted skys.
The crying dove whispered his tale
Of how she sung my name
When she drifted away
And I heard it from the seashells
Of how she begged for me by night
And it was all to late
That I realized I was her moon
And she was my tides
Until she was drifting to find another star
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