Spindrift
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how proper that I found you for
my farewell, midst those dunes
the sands where I did oft' adore
your flesh, daubed by the moon
o numberless, the softened eves
those callow hearts would wend
but promises quite often grieve
and swift, would come their end
to press my kiss upon your eye
dove cheek, soft placed a-palm
I bent to meet your sullen sigh
so breathed for kindness' calm
devoutly yours, my self, entire
the draught to draw your wine
you yet devour'd me, eyes afire
white-kneed, before your shrine
my blood as passion, let to be
the sweet sate for your thirst
a fiery flood you then set free
a seed, consumed and cursed
o how's a laurel placed a-brow
this man, so chilled and damned
can bring such deed to thus avow
lost love, wrought on the sand
and tho' I wore a garland, brief
so crowned, for summer's death
our love had withered as a leaf
'midst autumn's flaming breath.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2021
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