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My Capricious Sailor

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They say he never loved me,
My gallant captain of old.
He only cared for tall ships
And the stories of battles he told.
The waves were his constant mistresses,
A thing I’d never be,
And he walked across the deck more times
Than he walked his hands on me.
So if my hair could be his sail,
My arms, a noble brig,
My eyes his loyal lighthouse,
Shining on everything,
My hands, a steady rudder,
Turning by his will,
Then my capricious sailor
My heart, with pleasure, would refill.




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emilysbreakfast said...
Mar. 28, 2010 at 3:21 pm:
The lines of this fit like a puzzle, without being too cutesy-rhyming. I loved the "walked across the deck more times than he walked his hands on me" perfection.
 
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