a poem to end a long week and derail Monday – and perhaps to put one’s heart on one’s sleeve. Indulge.
Casabianca
Love’s the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite “The boy stood on
the burning deck”. Love’s the son
stood stammering elocution
while the poor ship in flames went down.
Love’s the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too
or an excuse to stay
on deck. And love’s the burning boy.
– Elizabeth Bishop
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