We’re miles away from a distant shore,
However separate but soon far apart,
It follows me: the wind ere its change,
We’re coming back into land,
The sight of reach and thus it stares,
A life that fate guides is more this sound,
Aligned by stars I sight the moon,
This life that I give myself reprieve,
She’s coming back from the woods into eaves,
The breeze she sees and is not so violent,
She sees me again and the trees astound,
The woods are singing her valiant return,
When she returns I’ll bestow another gift,
If not her material but more her virtue,
I’ll be given the proudest moment of all,
My lady, we’re leaving neither land nor sea,
We’re adrift in the air as much she floats,
She reels me in, I am but a fish astray,
She’s living in space, mine eyes so fair,
Take me home and see me through the day,
A beautiful hope: greatest day of my life,
Proudest moment of man to have ye beside,
For not if ever ye effect a move aside.

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Life, Poetry, Works
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