On the border

On the border of sanity

Where the West winds blow

Where goes the shamen

When the hawk flies low?

I will get together

With all my chums

And watch the moonlight shade

The moment’s afterglow

Of zither and zant

For all is a kant

Upon which to gloom

And moon.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016


[I say again by way of an apology – I don’t know what the piece is going to look like as I type the first word, until the last has been signified]




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