A MERMAID'S GIFT
A MERMAID'S GIFT I stroll by shores in mists of morn The harp lulls air; milk tides flare gilt. A sea maid sighs; her fish tail glints she signs my eyes; her jade ring heats and wakes the tale of grace long slain. “O lady,” I weep, “cast a red lock to melt dark arts and blast the crone!” Words bathe... Sign in to see full entry.