myrtle colour like when we danced in the park
for everything you sight, your reddened lipstick gasp
no mourners can defy the mouthed joy-song you cast
I crested my head high, darkened the virgin page
content and inmate, all at rest on the ledge
While my seafarer mind already with the land
I would berthed and furled where the watchfire stand
After Caroline storms went silent again
blended with the lawn the gardeners forget
that laurel overtake melting in summer scent
when muses inspire and writers lose themselves
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