The sun is down, have you laid out
fresh linens and the box
with his letters and seashells found
along the sand or tide pool rocks?
The sun is down, have you undone
the buttons of your dress
and for him, brushed into shine
each red-golden tress?
The sun is down, have you relit
the candles and poured some wine,
and with love, unlatched a window
to scent the room with rose and pine?
The sun is down, so have you heard
the night bird as she calls
farewell to flintlock and drum?
The rain will come. The mist now falls.