I wrote this one as something of a counterpart/companion to Absent Touch of Battle's Glory. In that poem, the point was looking at someone who eschewed the traditional call to adventure and found contentment in normal things. Upon the Cliffside Still is much of a "what could have been" poem written from the perspective of someone who left. I hope you enjoy!
I still recall your face sometimes,
When at night I close my eyes.
Auburn-wreathed with a smile sublime;
Peace and tenderness given guise.
I see the wind whip through your hair,
As you watched me sail away.
Drunk on pride and absent care.
Promising to return one day.
You stand upon that cliffside still,
In the mired mist of all my dreams.
A specter of the life I left,
Mind alit with selfish schemes.
“What could have been?” I’ve often said,
Peering wistful at the stars.
“What life waits back in years now past,
With the one I left afar?”
I’ll never know – I know this true.
Though the question e’er remains.
We’re neither more what once we were,
And ne’er shall be again.
