They say a queen once ruled by the sea, With crown of moon and voice of flame— But silence fell where song should be, And none who knew her speaks her name. Her castle sleeps in silver thread, A hall of mirrors, trapped in time. She walks where even ghosts would dread, A lullaby without a rhyme. Some say she waits. Some say she weeps. Some say she dreams of what was torn. But still the tide its promise keeps: The sea remembers those forlorn. So drink and hush, and mind the shore— The lost are not as lost as lore.
