I await her still,
the one whose words
are more than the
small sounds of dying mice.
She who is blessed
with wild things racing
within her brain, and
whose smile is a debt
demanding repayment.
Together, we will solemnly
drink the velvet from the night,
and I would learn the meaning
of being lost at sea.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ophelia-before-the-waves/
