I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges

of ancient cliffs above the shallows

of a rough Dover sea.

My feathers gleam in the beam of

the lighthouse where gentle swells

pulse against hollow bones that in

pale blue dreams you hold tenderly

in your palm like a treasured pearl.

We have abandoned the lighthouse

that seems to lean closer to the sea

waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.

The beam has ceased its search,

still each time I pass by I tip my wing.

Art by R. Simon