Western Dressed
It was late by any reckoningI saw her sitting on a faraway isle sewing
Chains of Fate,
In her arms were seas of beckoning
Like Cassandra my circumstance was misconstruing
It was late,
The sun was shining like a brazen idol in the West
She was weaving violet waves with moonbeam kisses singing in her hair
Whilst all the world was turning from the way that she was dressed
A silken whisper caressing your ear within a mist of silence hanging there
Were mermaids of Atlantis locked in underwater rocket submarines
Filled with seaweed sodden sailors bleary eyed dreamers drunken deep in song
Long before eternal Morning ever rose from Heaven's grave Joy to smile in Peace
It was late by any reckoning
In her arms were seas of beckoning...
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1723 times
Written on 2014-11-02 at 05:53
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