before the rise, before the plagues
she found a pattern in her ways,

A simple life, a living time
a lighthouse giving a belling chyme

she worked the docks, found the food
worked until beaten and chewed

the water called, roared, and rushed
her hope to live silent hushed

time was lonely, her weak heart stoned
lungs full of salt, liquid cold

thieves and murders surrounded her work
she walked in bravery away from the dark

her husband eventually died across the seas
the joy and happiness, cold degrees

a dishonorable death, where the grim lived
she suffered enough to survive

a son, a daughter, a life gone through
she slept alone until lips turned blue

it was a normal night, a brittle morning
a cough, storming and swarming

one day the sea returned
the water called her, her love deformed

the liquid filled her lungs, and she suffocated alone
together again when found, gone.