(no subject)
With soft warm waves, O ocean, thou invade the beach,
How gracefully, and with how bright a face.
What, may it be that even in solitude place
That extended hand cannot grasp my reach?
Sure, if that desperation cries with each
Subtle glance towards a smile, cry, or case.
I paint it in thy books; thy painful grace,
To me that feel like, thy state it preach.
Then glow of friendship, O ocean, tell me
Is tidal love just an enticing tease?
Are backward stances models as they be?
Do they love, and yet wander with the breeze
Wistfully ignoring the suns bright gaze?
Do they call this washed behavior a phase?
How gracefully, and with how bright a face.
What, may it be that even in solitude place
That extended hand cannot grasp my reach?
Sure, if that desperation cries with each
Subtle glance towards a smile, cry, or case.
I paint it in thy books; thy painful grace,
To me that feel like, thy state it preach.
Then glow of friendship, O ocean, tell me
Is tidal love just an enticing tease?
Are backward stances models as they be?
Do they love, and yet wander with the breeze
Wistfully ignoring the suns bright gaze?
Do they call this washed behavior a phase?