March 05, 2021, 01:06:31 AM

Author Topic: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society  (Read 60510 times)

Offline Peat

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #150 on: October 29, 2020, 01:21:58 AM »
Lonely the Sky, Lonely the Sea,
When Young Davey McGregor came
A-Seeking Me.

I knew well it was himself by
The wistful sound of his song, the
Tone of his sigh,
Heard in the sleeping dreams we’d shared,
As he’d wondered so much why us
Two; if he dared
Set his sail after some figment
Of his subconscious romantic
Impulses, sent
By who knows who to us? Maybe
Some real divine blessing. Maybe
A fantasy.

Now Young Davey had sailed to me,
And my dream love was as real as
The lonely sea.

“Oh come my pretty lass, oh come
My beauty under the cold wave,
For I can’t plumb
The airless depths of the water
Between us and our dreamed love, if
I do not err
In thinking this your hoped for wish,
In thinking you real as earth, in
Wanting your kiss.
Let me, my love, not hope in vain!
Come to my boat on the wave, and
With me remain.”

“For I have questioned too long why
Fate has sent us dreams; let us fill
The lonely sky.”

His words lit yearning in my blood,
Fire in the cold depths, a river
Rising in flood.
But I could not rise to his boat,
For what would I say? I could not
Shed my seal coat,
And walk like the woman in his dreams.
Many years would pass before the tides
Loosened coat seams.
But in slumber we had been set
Together, and I hoped he would
Not cease songs yet.

For it aches waiting to be free,
And oft I think; lonely the sky,
Lonely the sea.
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