Ride we the curled, cresting salt;
Cling to the back of a wing-ed horse;
Drift we through warm waters
Rotten with flowers,
Float we, on a phantom, on Hope
On Grace.
©Hemmingplay 2015
“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." --Chaucer
Poetry
In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.
Audrey Dawn
"He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life." ...James Joyce
THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE
Your words here are as majestic as the ocean
am:)
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Thank you, AM.
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You are welcome, my friend.
am:)
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