Moor Or Less, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

You sat in the same place where Heathcliff was written
The stony stares where Cathy was bitten
By betrayal, rejection, your story unwritten

The grey grimy wool of the sheep you were certain
Could graze without worry, while your heart was frozen
The cigarette lighter, pops out of the dash, red glow center

Fades into the grass. Tall they cover the rolling Moors
Down in the valley are all the shut doors
They bow in an arc, but do not break

Your heart shattered in Ted’s frigid wake
The gusty wind your small frame will take
The lamb’s black iris launched you into space

I see the disconcerting look on your face
Your oven is awaiting to take it’s place
Were the Moors really your solace

To escape your empty broken palace
Will the winds stop, or blow stronger
Will your poems live longer and longer?

Clocks consume, without a care
Matters not, that you’re not there
The Moorish winds, were never fair.

Were you a wishful candle that could not handle
Heathcliff leaving, Ted left in scandal
Were you hoping the winds would extinguish you?
(end)

This is an ode poem to Sylvia Plath’s Poem ” Wuthering Heights”.
https://allpoetry.com/Wuthering-Heights

It is more about Plath’s love of the Yorkshire rolling hills Moors and how she describes them in her poem. But I also tied it to her tumultuous relationship with Ted Hughes.