Awe
       that sense of wonderment
when the mind
       not to say the body
is blown away
       by beauty

That she is rose
       and flesh
all woven
       from light

Here in the place of birth
       her hair tangled
by the brisk breeze
       her eyes damp
with remembrance
       with loss

At night she grinds her teeth
       the lost innocence
the years misspent
       in pointless pursuits
the child in her
       a figment of the imagination

She who was once rose
       on the threshold of dust
at the dissolution of time
       where the sea thrashes
the ocean’s edge
       and peace alone
comes to creatures
       that swim with the tide

John Lyons