Outside—the werewolves <br />Walked blindly <br />Up to the roses— <br />Not a one of them could see <br />What it was <br />The virgin was holding, <br />But the emptied promises <br />In her bouquets of <br />Amputations— <br />Old muses who'd lost their <br />Heads to other men— <br />The stewardesses who'd <br />Looked away at just <br />The right moment— <br />As the white ships embarked upon epiphany— <br />The silver letters looed <br />The other way— <br />And I got my reprieve for <br />Another day— <br />In a lifetime lead between the ocean <br />And her lover's shore.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-lover-s-shore/
