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·124 words·

We sailed away on a winter’s day With fate as malleable as clay But ships are fallible, I say And the nautical, like all things, fades And I can recall our caravel: A little wicker beetle shell With four fine mastes and eightteen sails Its bearings on Cair Paravel

O my love O it was a funny little thing To be the ones to’ve seen

The sight of bridges and balloons Makes calm canaries irritable; They caw and claw all afternoon: “Catenaries and dirigibles Brace and buoy the living-room— A loom of metal, warp—woof—wimble” And a thimbles worth of milky moon Can touch hearts larger than a thimble

O my love O it was a funny little thing To be the ones to’ve seen