Wednesday, 6 July 2022
Hadley
She regards a dawning sea,
each dance is a trip,
and wonders about her feet,
if she feels love,
not knowing what to give,
still needs to keep strong,
bars fuel her sole conceit,
every song shakes her hips,
sunrise greets the Atlantic,
brown wood yards,
their blond hearts stripped,
stand closely by the docks,
when morning turns green,
she dresses and skips,
to the heaven on 8th Street,
says a prayer up above,
wishes on communion lips,
that maybe a turtle dove,
might bring her a kiss ?
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