Song from a seagull

He
takes stones,
called her,
kissed her in the breaking,
climbed a mountain, three thousand miles
missed her flowers
and branches; climbed a tree.

A man
asked her of goodbye,
writes his papers,
profits
memory.

A lady
sometimes calls,
brought her laughter
now she fears.
Man
is bleeding,
a dreamer sees; will lose.

Heart is hollow.
She is free.

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