So… My friend Bryana Tastad took a photo of her friend Rowan Misch, and I looked at it, and said, “There is a story here. I may have to tell it, as soon as I figure out what it is.”
It turned into a poem.
Rowan’s Ghost
She walks the quay when the skies are gray
Wrapped in a snow white shroud;
Her feet are bare in the salty air,
And she never speaks aloud.
In vain she waits on the cruel fates
As she walks the quay alone,
For her lover sleeps in the ocean deeps
And she sleeps beneath a stone.
Paul Haynie
9/2/2011