Do not try,
Pipes chorus -
To compete,
It’s not a game,
Chides a waiter -
With the apple
Of her eye.
Devotion decades deep
While you are merely
A drop in her sea.
Constant, awash
A reed among kelp forest
Slowly disappearing
Taste of salt tears
Sweat of remembrance
Incomparable to the love
She plucked from tender
Young tree