Come my friend
In Elliot fashion
Up the great grey
Battleship of sky
And note the rhyme
The pure white gash
A seagull makes
Swirling as he flies.
No rhythmic pink feet geese
Beating at the air
Or syncopated swans
Coming into land
Nor as the peregrine
Having slipped
Straight down the sky
To grace my lady's hand.
A common rascal
Is the gull
A thief on high
Plunders all
From land an sea
And drops stuff
In your eye.
JL 3rd Dec 11:09
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