On what principle does the sliding ship lie?
For what reason does the fair maiden sigh?
I lost the grounded mooring.
There is no other trade that I can ply.
You must forgive me if I do cry.
Why must I abandon all I hold dear?
What is it that grips me with fear?
I find the distant shoring.
There is no one left on the pier.
You must see that I am changing into weir.
Is there nothing that can stop this change?
Will the cycle be out of range?
I see the full moon goring.
There is nothing that can rearrange.
You must find soon very, very strange.
Waiting, with a tab, or tabby, marking the page.
ReplyDeleteSatin ribbon, hanging from the binding,
Where I studied, beneath your nose, mayest I return? Doth Heaven know?
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ReplyDelete