The isle and it's shore

He is an isle
she was the shore,
bestowed upon him
to hold and fend for

She was a harbor to many
in their voyage of life,
he stood with heart open
through joy and the strife

Storms they did batter
this isle and his shore,
at times all seemed lost
to the sea's raging war

Many had trampled
on her windswept land,
all he could offer was
a strong rock and his hand

At times her sand shifted
changing image in storms,
yet her pure essence
could polish rock forms

The grave in her sand
held shipwrecks of old,
while windblown formations
covered it's gold

Few know the full truth
of what lies deep below,
be it treasure that's lost
or a seed that may grow

He still is an isle
and she was the shore,
the raging seas took her
as spoils of the war