Surrender

Wayward they appear to be
like hearing an echo one final time
draped in a sunset cliche
hair sifted by oceans, winds.

Storms cackle sour, distant
upon black steel clouds that rumble and flash
curious they look onward
unphased with a careless smile.

Wistful they wander and glide
my silver nymph, herald of the sea
lips parts to mutter magic
a word which offers release.