Build Off That Mound Poem by James McLain

You could when I should then recvice you, within me.
Her song that I sang, did naught when she lost, I became.
To deep such delight, would she help, but never could tell me.
That with I, could her music is loud, crystal and so clear.
I tarry when speaking and sleep then therein, much too long.
I would build up high off that fair mound.
Warm is the air, green grass moved all around on the ground.
Sunny freckled are hers those long arms.
Wild soft warm legs walking up are those caves of desire.
And all whom could hear, did I see them then off, there between.
The cliff off there yonder, standing forsaken alone, rocky crag.
A ledge to the edge looking up and out off into the rift, of where.
Trying to speak, I can only but croak, looking out, down below.
And instead the full moon shines down upon me wide open.
Thus when I look it more vibrantly and richly behinds dark clouds become.
Look beware and I looked, why I looked, she becomes.
Sitting up now awake and aware looking up,
The moon throught the window it rises turns yellow and sets.