With a scent of woeful flurry
you arrive,
a brewing torrent.

Recall the way your eyes teared so,
and remember the waves that beckoned you here,
recall that one memory lost to your wind
and remember the gaze through your lone window.

Be nostalgic for the sweet
and moreso for the bitter;
let yourself be incomplete
and pray to heaven: “come hither.”

With a taste of the finest tears,
you leave,
a storm long lost.