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]
