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