Come, my songs; let us take our departure
eased now of our heavy lungs
and throbbing heart
we may make our way through the colonnades
with light step
knowing we have tried.
that we in rabid youth sang to unkind hearts
sat upon the deck and composed clouds
and with gentle lays put the sun to sleep.
Love is situated, lies sweetly by the door.
So, come my songs let us take our leave
of black moors and knaves
waving knives in the street.
we shall leave our sad smiles,
we have no need of Leucothea’s pity,
leaving our salvation to the squirrels and jays.
the ebb and flow of tides.