And A Sod, Loved In Italy
I roll over on to the gondola, the
by James McLain
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.