Elly

Don't talk to me and pause, sea shores where rivers widen, she’s our daughter, we've heard your tales, they don't make an interesting life, how you lied and railed, when you slammed the door, she writhed still kicking inside, what you said was poor, then a letter suddenly regales, from nowhere in your Paradise, Kobe, Manila’s Palisades, left as a reminder, a cork, places to cope after you sigh, sailing out from every port, from here we can see Wales, this lovely beach and sky, bottles, tar, feather your tales, is it hope you buy ?