Hold a compass
Find true north
Wispy clouds dull the stars
With only moonlight left to guide
A gusty wind beckons the tide

Invent constellations
You and me inside,
Dance and dine
Our stories the lights that shine
Our voices waves that mold the mountainside
That carve the shelter
For the shipwrecked stranger
Grown tired from pulling sails and dead anchor’s

His tattered clothes
The ones she’d sewn
A fond farewell
From the golden coast