Emily If I Do It, Will You Tell..? Poem by James McLain

Words roll in never ending waves
from shores of oceans long lost
from minds of all.
Tongues like yours carry a sentence
of death for I whom,
crawls at your feet.

You my, queen of pain that renders sight
outrageously to my head insane
slowly sipping wine.

Firm is firm in the voice, I hear it call
my name.
Fleet is your foot as it stands
on my neck, wresting my joy in
your hand firmly is such
this your grip when gently applied.

When my time of need is lost,
then washed in your love is my agony.