Thursday, December 6, 2018

Ain’t That So, Calypso?

Sometimes, you almost have to
Get it right, keep it all night,
Hold it so close to your chest

It can’t flee or take a breath
Or dream of another nest.
Sometimes, you know you’ll never
Get it right, and you confess

To nothing that cares,
To night’s inattentive lights,
To you it’s nothing to be

A goddess and immortal
When the mortal has to leave.
Were you the type to fight, you’d
Bite dawn’s rosy fingers bright.

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