A MERMAID'S GIFT

I stroll by shores in mists of morn

The harp lulls air; milk tides flare gilt.

A sea maid sighs; her fish tail glints

she signs my eyes; her jade ring heats

and wakes the tale of grace long slain.

“O lady,” I weep, “cast a red lock

to melt dark arts and blast the crone!”

Words bathe my soul; her lips are mute

“I seal your heart, so foil this doom!”