And A Sod, Loved In Italy

I roll over on to the gondola, the
shine from the wood makes me rise.
Burned she turns, I yawn my suprise.
The profile is sure, smouldering to they
on the bridge looking down..I bring my
self closer to her and the still water..
for a swans momenta of time.
what a dumb luck of sod am I.....
The sun shining down on a crown.

by James McLain

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