Love crashes around the lover like a rock filled land
Eerily perched above on the cleft like a bird for prey
Scented with waves, crushed roses, and dead rocks
Even the little flowers that love to live between the edges
Are void of all life, wilted and dead lying on the rocks
This is the end of the world
This is where no man roams
Not even the ugly wenches
Or the moody trolls cursing
Grace this spit with life