A Dame

Today I am a lost ranger in the heavenly woods

When I was younger I would loose in by lanes

Of gingerly done streets with towering hoods

That I remember by many people who in veins

 

Charge my memory with forgotten dame

Half unsung in praise of the lord

In the dreams of ancient lore is her hidden fame

Whence cut the umbilical chord

 

She vanishes into the feathery cloud

With Hue of nonce blanc

Bold strike and the clear loud

As she secretly passes into almanac

 

For me to keep the date

As preserved for the days

When on silly Sunday she took the fate

And came into existence and says

 

The lip is done in heaven but in shroud

I love you but you need to say out loud

 

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