Spring Ballad

Pull me to the callous shore
Whenever I desire more:
For my heart I can deplore;
The dreams I have amount to lore.

Your speech is like a vacant flute:
I rarely see its founding root.
When I do, it plays a lute:
But to response you're any mute.

Make the channel cross the sand,
The forest's truly desert land,
A girl's heart, discovered canned
Dances with my lonely hand.

One day I'll see you in court,
Returning to your little fort.
My love will sink, lost in the port,
Our friendship made into an ort.

03/05/2004/10:13PM