It’s nice to stand here, to listen and contemplate in this deserted place.
The sky is blue and grey, the sea reflecting its angry stare like a mirror,
A flock of ducks haunt the waves, drifting, waiting – a lonely flotilla.
My thoughts turn to you, my dear friend and love in so many tales,
Come with me to this place one day, I want your breeze in my sails.
Even as the snow falls ‘pon the waves mingling with the tide,
I think back to the old country and the joy of Christmas tide
When the Meadows begotten of the summer sun lay lame with dew,
I want to be back there and enjoy a glass of mead with you.
Say you will still be there when I have done my lonely vigil,
When I can return whence I came, and partake of winter ritual.
Now my dear, I write from my little lighthouse, waiting to be relieved,
When our love will be rekindled, and all my kisses softly received.
