calypso
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compelled each day to plod that beach
her dazzlings - quite beyond my reach
those eyes like jade and deep as death
that whispered “come” in witching breath
soft-danced, those briny bullions rolled
bright cresting swells with coins of gold
that she claimed hers to snatch and save
such wealth, that girl beneath the waves …
that wealth now gilds … her lovers’ graves.
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2025
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