The troughs seem to get wider
Physically this time there is a strait between
And straits ahead period
But thats a different thing
Now the head is swollen and heavy
Lifeless a mast without the sail
Mocked by an annoying weathercock
That with every wind turns its tail
In the bay
There is calm
Out on the shores
There are lights
Under nights blanket
Up creeps the day
Like a snake through the grass
And stings the eyes
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