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Time will fly --
my dreams of dying with
a gilded golden spine;
coiled vertebrae in the sunlight of the day.
Does every girl
dream of pearls?
And the seabed and the sand. His hands
make me shy
away. A girl's gotta have her own ribs, y'know?
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YOU ARE READING
THE OCEAN
Poetry'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
