I can’t remember what I called this poetry form based on the number three: three stanzas of three lines each, each line three times three syllables, three rhymes, one in each stanza. It can be called a trinity for the sake of giving it a name.
There are voices in the wind tonight,
Weaving threads of dark among the light,
Waves beat on the cold shore out of sight.
Lamentations fill the starlit air,
Rushes cringe beneath the moon’s harsh glare,
And you have lost the sunlight in your hair.
Hands reach out to snatch a falling star
And fall back empty for the sky’s too far,
The hole I patch with heartstrings leaves a scar.