Saturday, 1 March 2014


A scent of blue beneath the coast,
I wandered awfully astray.
A touch against your weavy mask
And you appear.... Moray.

I dreamt about you ceaselessly
And waited for a spark to climb,
While they were talking bitterly
About the years to come.

There is no turning back to this.
I praise you: Shine!
And I will give you utter bliss
Upon the day you're mine.

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