The Writers' Circle

With the salt of the sea in the moist warm air.
She stood on the cliff with the wind in her hair.
Soaked to the skin and with tears in her eyes,
Ignoring the storm and the blackening skies. 

Bitter and twisted with bile in her heart,
There lay the man she loved in the cart. 
Broken and battered with a knife in his back
She mustered her strength and tied up the sack.

With one final sigh and the mightiest shove
She said goodbye to her only true love.
As meek and as mild as a woman could be
She mourned her action in front of the sea.

With the salt of the sea in the moist warm air
She jumped off the cliff with the wind in her hair.
Soaked to the skin in the depths of the ocean
She seeks her love to prove her devotion.