I don’t know what‘s got into me,
But, somehow, I feel drawn
To women who gaze out to sea
While walking through the dawn.

Perhaps I think that they’re in touch
With all that there’s to know;
There’s nothing wrong with that, as such;
It’s quite presumptuous, though.

Of course I’m being most unfair
To praise them to the skies,
When they could just like salty air
Or watching fireballs rise.

But, if I chanced on one of them,
I’d stoop to kiss her dress’s hem.

Photo by Norbert Braun on Unsplash

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