Untold Stories

The lighthouse turns as it has always done;
There are stories to tell before she’ll sleep;
The lighthouse turns until the moon sinks down;
And there are untold stories that will keep
Until the sunlight rises in the east
And breezing winds seem less harmful these days -
Then he can stop his vigil, having policed
Her bedside through to dawn as golden rays
Will play upon her face and wake the chit
Who slept so very soundly through the storm
And wakes up looking lovely every bit
As beautiful as any tale begun
To help the lighthouse turn until it’s done.