I visited her cottage each month, never
staying the night
through her window by the oak table
we watched the surf
on days when the sea was angry, we could hear
the waves crack against earth's spare spine
those times I liked, for she would hold my hand,
tightly, like I was her tether to the wide world
I would leave as the sun set, the moment a million
gold sparkles vanished from the waters
when I found her, I pretended she was asleep
but her eyes were open and still
staring it seemed through the same window
I sat with her and rubbed her cold hand
I stayed until the sun sank into the same salty sea
wondering if the old tales were true...
if a billion tears had flowed into the blue depths
making a soulful brine
I know mine fell on the soggy sand, disappearing
in the dusk that swallowed my tracks
I believe gwyll is Welsh for dusk or darkness