You wounded waves
I would present thine the praise
You aren’t the ocean bays
You are my wondrous face.
I step on the sandy paths,
Sign on Sabina’s phrase
“Halt my motion forwarding
Or instead, colour my distant chase.“
Sabina darling! Take my bow
You are so colossal and yet hollow
Possessing the beauty of lady fern
Let me sink into your wounded pea.
Let your master watch,
Write on my foreheaded scorch
“Terms on your bath,
I would rest my body in your clutch.”
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