That Fantasy

Come take my hand,

I’ll soon be the sand that
Blows near the ocean
But never settles down,

A sound like a whisper
Born from a dead tongue,

A finished elixir,
A temporary fixture,
A song partly sung,

And the fun
Of a gun
That’s never shot

Anyone.

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2 Responses to “That Fantasy”

  1. “A finished elixir”
    curious and tickling phrase

  2. Thanks Evelyn 🙂

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