Maighdean Mhara
midnight waves cast themselves upon the rocky shores
laden clouds hung low above
the driving rain drove her up the sandy stretch
with a heave and a shrug her skin fell off
silken tresses drop around her waist
myriad waves beckons her back, sing to her, wanting
far along the foot-trodden path he waits for her
night after night-
she rises
their love, once again complete
he grows old, his heart will cease
she kisses him one last time
returns to the sea-
she goes
a glance
slips again once more into her skin
quietly, silently into those weeping waves
(Hour 23)
I like it. I understand it. Short, concise.
Not many jolting words to dispel the dragging, hopeless mood. That frames it.