October 8
Seasons bend their will
in slow circles
coming 'round again
There you lie, slowly rocking
bound with ropesin your sleeping birth
The long cold winter
finally broke freeto warm spring promise
So quickly passed the summer
silhouetted taught white sailsdanced with clouds
Cutting through the sea
and racing against the wind
so joyously free
Now the autumn wind
whispers to methat I must strip your sails
and walk away.
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