Fabaya

Who will tend our bones, listening to the rain, does my lover run alone, or make my heart beat, drown the early pain, birds we used to feed, winter cormorants we know, and maybe see again, ferried on their flight zone, a sound of broken wheels, last November grey, flying before the sea, the flag at danger flow, wondering if these waves, will make her atone, straggling in our clothes, she isn't here to say, drain September's glow, before we float away.