A storm-tossed night
and this morning
I helped you shift the bed.
You wanted to view
new latitudes: the far
peninsula, the lighthouse light.
So tonight
our pillows will have
fresh points of reference:
no frenzied tree
no harbour mouth
no rooftops like causeways
down to the deep
Crossing new bars
on our raft of sleep
we will dream
from north to south
and though our ship be holed
our canvas lost
Love take its bearings
from new sets of stars
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