Frosty heights of wilful winds
Will connive to stubbornly dance
Raging come in icy spells
Sailed a boat, meek at row
The lighthouse is a distant dream.
Away the ocean ebbs. Sunbeams
Miss the tide once more
The happy stranger was here.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
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1 comment:
Is life the guest, it does seem to be when it times are good
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