Sunday, 20 August 2017

What?! Oh eye sea

<Audio - read twice>

Sofa out upon the tide
of an assault sea swim.
See son, some are turning,
ought um we to run across
the unraveling rope bridge.
For the sun vines are rotting 
and the mists' must falls.
The lichen is turning 
to mild you will find it
upon the cataract of time,
where the cars cade
until the tide turns.

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