Endlessly Waiting

A woman stands,
In a proud circle of stones,
A circle, a ring, a dance.
They are old,
Their age is magic in and of itself.
But something else, something just as enchanting,
Hangs in the air around her.

Whether the woman is only that, a woman,
No one knows.
Perhaps she is a ghost.
Perhaps she is both.
The only thing anyone really knows,
Is that she stands,
And she waits.

Alone on a cliff, surrounded by the dance,
Her vivid red hair blowing in the sea breeze.
The waves crash below her,
She waits.

The air is cold, crisp, and salty.
The sun shines bright, but cold.
The sky an endless, perfect, blue.
An incredible contrast,
To the vivid cobalt of the sea.
She waits.

Her white gown billows around her,
And with a heart heavy with sorrow,
She waits for love to come back to her.
She waits.
Endlessly waiting for him to return.

Sometimes you see her,
But then she's gone in a flash.
Sometimes you only hear her,
Weeping softly for a love long lost.