blessed be
That have true friends
The push and pull of tide.
I think of you
To them you knew
You never ever lied
If all the smiles
Entertained
you'd rather they not cried
Be it by you
and your soft hands
You have so much to hide
So
Gave to them a syllabus.
A wandering dismiss
And squandered love impossibly
To see though foggy glass
The undulating
truth of you
A Softly bending grass
For fight of pure
Instinct
We are
And never separate from
All things o
Passion
Pure and sleek
And all that is delight
So,
of you
I do then ask
Why is the
dis- tiance
When craven form implies that we
Bend to penitence