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Beauty is Embarrassing

September 28, 2012

Far above Hatteras, before the light –

a silent watcher, fleets of whispers.

Far below the night, over the tide –

a silent watcher, fleets of whispers.

Far away from her thoughts, but close –

a silent watcher, fleets of whispers.

 

Near and far, she guards herself –

a silent watcher, fleets of whispers.

Near enough yet, shapes of sails –

a silent watcher, fleets of whispers.

 

Drawing abreast, dropping anchor –

those fleeting whispers loiter.

 

She blushes at the attention.

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From → Poetry

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