She danced her dance,
soft print in moving sand
to waltz in time remembered.
From left to left,
she gently swirled,
then right
with heart surrendered.
The tide beat time
and splashed in stream
to rhyme in slow meander,
where wave on wave played soft,
lit dim, in moon bystander.

The boat had swayed
with unbalanced oar
silhouetted in dim moonlight.
The catch this day
had weighed them down
on sharp and straggled rock.
A mumbled prayer to Mary
echoed on Rathlinn’s shore
the cry for help, unheard
to fade in soft goodnight.

She danced her dance
on moving sand,
where light stretched out to sea,
to the music of the curlew,
and the wail of a lone Banshee.
The cry for help
led her in dance,
grabbed hand
toward the shore.
Waist deep, she fades below,
a life of never more.
She danced her dance
among debris
when wave on wave,
now whispered,
a love is lost at sea.