Tuesday, January 05, 2016


While bestriding the final sea
Ankles lapping maturities waters
If wisdom alone comes with time
It is perhaps come too late
For though my ardour flames
It is brief like a winter sun
And too soon clouds return
And then as fast as intent doth arise
It fails and sinks broken again
And we rightly guess
Life yet wreaks a humour
To quieten these ardent winds
That would blow till we stilled
If we could but let them