The Poet And The Sky-7

Lowly Clearing her throat Then she asks 'O' my dear Thanks For all your kind Words dear But tell me That far away glee That feel you free Spent on that spree Most your life agree? Thereby away from me That rabbit you be To race sky high Dreaming to decree You the winner great high Never mind Me be the tortoise To race slow behind Loose game of any choice Keep watching the sky Opining of me nigh You'll find me floating As abundant turtles alluring In that ocean of sky And morrow's change Wind might change Of its mighty rage You blown to the high range To catch me all outranged sometimes strange' And morrow's change Wind might change Of its mighty rage Turtles might fall disarranged You might pick them deranged Sometimes strange Goodbye dear' Bidding bye Off and away far She's gone Passion or dispassion The poet Turns turtle End