Cognac

Gold sways in a cloak of gray

Sapphire waves crash in noon rays

And as the branches fray in mists of breaking day

I see her wander through the sea

Hopes captured in starlit memory

Across the field lies the oaken elegy

Sometime, somewhere, do I agree?

At the point by which she stands from me

Rising in the flames of winter dust

The sound of cogs with dying rust

Held in the twilight, a lake and freezing gusts 

Away to a light that blinds all I see

Dreams fall passed ice patched waterfalls

Beyond the pages lie the answers to my call

A parallel, a paradigm, hunting the malign

In a copse of birch, forsake the scattered debris

Hills dowsed and spring at its wake

I wallow in contrition, myself the omission

This manifest of partition and definition

Strike as we flee, ponder at the scree

Maelstrom and hurricane spit demolition and stinging rain

Alone by a refrain, the forgotten verse for a musician's strain

Seated at the mantle, contemplating along the lauded plain

She scurries to the plea, "can I finally be free"

Must I believe? Must I relieve?

I am finally free