Down by the bay
Where the poppies grow
And cool water floods the deep, pulsating red
Of mine eye
Flush the blood and blow the wind
Clear the crust of old wounds
This bay is a damp towel
Of soaked romance
Dripping in casualties

The sands of the bay are blanketed
With young Aryan girls whose hair has reddened to
Succulent Strawberries
How Alluring
Clear, clean eyes that sparkle with blue topaz
Such gems of innocence
Framed with fire locks
Water set with flame
Purity burned at the edges
Like the sun that scorches the tide

Night comes low
And cools the heat of youth
They say the night is young
But it is morning that is the baby
Night is wise
A deep sapphire that swallows all else
Wisdom
It purges the flesh
But leaves enough red for my cheek
Just a small spark
Before I turn cold