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Seán Mac Falls
Poems
Nov 2017
The Searching
.
After childhood sleep,
Of days into dawning,
Shucked of dusted clay,
Eyes set unto fawning,
Then, the rowing began.
Shy gentle waves lulling
As it does for Everyman
Who seeks loves' culling.
In a tempest of blue sky,
I was engulfed so plain,
That time was sore to eye,
All suitors never maidens.
One true love never came,
Nor to fly as birds teeming,
Now all is shipwreck of age,
Ah, but to drown dreaming.
Written by
Seán Mac Falls
Éire
(Éire)
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