The house on the southern Bay
It sits and stares at a hundred ships a day
The smooth waves fold onto polished stones.
Light glistens in every ripple stretching all across the water.
Lonely sailors pass the time away.
The scent of smoke burrows into my hair and clothes.
Cracking wood locks silence away.
My left hand was molded with my love.
The lake Falls and rise.
On a summer's day, we talk about our home.
My comfort hasn't come from the fire,
But radiating,
From the person who cares the most for me.
Her eyes could steal a sailor from the sea.
No blanket or book could put my mind at ease,
The way my favorite person does.