and fronds

WHO’S READY  FOR SOME MERMAID POETRY


Once upon a time young man came to my lake,

His hair golden as the aspen’s quake.

His eyes were the same blue as the water deep

And I knew this was a man I had to keep.

He stood by the shore and knelt,

“Why!?” Was all he could belt,

Face buried in his hands and pain on his mind,

I sought to show him something gentle and kind

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