Within a pulsing vein of youth without Restraint, the water to the flame of we, Inside those bated moments so devout, And fervent to the things not meant to be, I saw you gliding twisting winding there, Me, a forlorn fisher ‘top that dune, And you, my dear, a dark-haired maiden fair, Were glowing selkie dancing ‘neath the moon, I hid your skin and tried to make you mine, And for a time, it worked;…
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