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To the Mast

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The same as the last time and the time before, as I sit down to write out my thoughts to you, and how you move me in ways I thought were abandoning this ship I sail, the soulful voyage, resigning to signing off on the sea bed among the sharks awaiting my flesh, I'd surely give without fight if you were not here; � �
But you are here, I've not to finish my baring soul than for you to be in spirit, here, making the demons take fright, no desire for fight, as I give myself again freely to your welcoming advances. � � � � � � � � � �
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Oh sweet spiritual lover of mine, you're here once again, as I, the damsel in mourning cloak with distress signals sent between the line of thought and fear my write allows, and you, white knight, shining symbol of loves request written in sweeping slant, sliding with the brush of your lips hovering over mine, before we both succumb to the rhyme, rhythm and verse of our hearts unity, vocal in displays of affection. � � � � � � � � �
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