Crucial must this godstorm be
Risk whisk my wife away to sea

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For eight long months I brood at bay
For one day's berth to weep away

 

Force of grip now flees the posts
Alaskan kings' long limbic ghosts

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Headstrong wind talks over thee

Howls the same for me and she

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To her, I'm gone just all'n same

What second cent's there to my name

​

Haven't naught to give away

Hence my post is free today