Peace, I Long For

Sing upon the swinging seat, 

While lifting limbs.

Meandering past the water’s edge, 

Catching the saline twins, 

Swimming upon the moon’s light. 

The beaming drift, 

Bends down to curl, 

On something softer than itself, 

And I throw my shoulders out of shape, 

To sleep upon the grass myself. 

I hear the purr of wind, 

Pass lightly through the air, 

Singing sweetness on her own, 

Upon her lonesome self.

Ancient vespors alive, 

Remnant despite the crowded pockets, 

All comfort tonight, 

The colours coagulate, 

Side by side. 


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