You call it true love, and believe t’was so…

I call it a brief lapse of sanity…

Yet what it was,

What it was meant to be,

The two of us, perhaps, will never know.

It was a dream we lived upon a shore,

A sad song brought to us from distant lands

By some white birds that spread their wings to soar

Across the rebel blue of other sands.

A sad song brought by sailors from afar,

From Boston,

Norfolk, New York

Quebec,

A sad song sung by fishermen who are

Going to sea, and nevermore come back.

And the refrain it was of triolets,

Penned by a poet from the North of yore

On the white edge of his indented shore,

To beg the love of passing blonde coquettes.

It was a dream,

A verse,

A melody

We never sang, perhaps, long time ago…

You call it true love? And believe t’was so?

I call it a brief lapse of sanity!