That’s my song
The first time
I dreamed the
Major Thirteen
I was just over sixty.
I was dreaming of
falling down to sea
With no parachute.
Before to splat
the water
I asked the wind
To appease my
drop:
So did the wind.
And I started
singing.
Say the fishermen
Along the Cornwall
coast
If they hear a
song
At windy full moon
nights.
That’s might be my
song.
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