08-16-2017, 08:37 PM
Poor sam's mind,
has begun to leap away;
what urges his kop,
to the fields of no vision lay.
A fatigued mother,
leers at the wild eye,
wherein birls the fierce shine,
only seen in the evening sky.
What lures behind with dire grasp,
and turns this seaman's only helm;
for far away is port or home,
and long lost is a moral throne.
Calibre once brought so dear a smile,
to parley warmth o'er cold vein;
to mount a precipice and be of padre use,
in joys well hid in antique hue.
Why the hope of plea,
keeps a iterate memorial—
cold to eschew,
and only groping the depth,
in the never new.
has begun to leap away;
what urges his kop,
to the fields of no vision lay.
A fatigued mother,
leers at the wild eye,
wherein birls the fierce shine,
only seen in the evening sky.
What lures behind with dire grasp,
and turns this seaman's only helm;
for far away is port or home,
and long lost is a moral throne.
Calibre once brought so dear a smile,
to parley warmth o'er cold vein;
to mount a precipice and be of padre use,
in joys well hid in antique hue.
Why the hope of plea,
keeps a iterate memorial—
cold to eschew,
and only groping the depth,
in the never new.