My deepest apologies, love-
For being so wanting of one.
To bleed of my longing-presumpt,
That all thy sea water'd been pumped...
But alas,
In thy flood-I float,
As in my drought-
They drowneth.
In futile ends is still seen hope,
Of our merged smiles in towers...
So I hope,
And we hope...
Seeing you come-
And me go...
Changing names on a whim,
Both being one, too expectant-
Or both ; two being one,
Too expectantly known?
Oh, but if only-
We could jump from our boats,
And let all the sands-
Of time see us soak,
Not leaving a granule-
To a muddied abode.
A dream of too great grandeur,
Though in it-
My meager heart hopes...
