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Click hereThe mistress of the lighthouse
must keep vigil all the time -
her daughter's gone to greener fields
to flee the broken chime
of mother's old but deadsure clock
that ticks her life away-
the light's thin beams shine on the brine;
she could no longer stay.
The master of the lighthouse died
in nineteen sixty-four,
but if he jumped or if he fell?
She doesn't care, no more.
She could have made a mother sweet,
a lover and a wife,
but when her husband crashed to death
all joy fled from her life.
When she was young she laughed and sang
and loved to read and write
and teach the children poetry
to fend against life's bite...
Her daughter lost all memories
of that young man, so old
and sad and distant, gone for good
into lost winter's cold.
The mistress of the lighthouse must
keep vigil all the time -
once lovely face now lined and old,
dark hair now stained with rime
and when the wind is on the sea
and ice is on the wall
She plies the light and sits and sighs
and listens for his call.
(This is the result of a kind of private challence, thanks to Dawnj)
Sorry I'm only now seeing this. It's very clever! Your lady is so sad, unlike mine. :)