Bad Dream Dirge

I survey the scene
Now she has gone
Her perfume drifts
As thoughts shift
To calling
From a mountain
Looking on wind farms
And docks
Tug boats trail
In the tide, victims of
The metronomic clocks
Ticking like a tock.
I survey the scenes
Now she has gone
Her perfume drifts,
Drifts across the sea.