by Nurin Nafisah
Flying solo under her wings,
Winding by the winds,
Then perching on her heel,
Once he heard an angel,
Singing over her answers,
Grudging through her manners,
Still--not to betray to be noble,
La-la-la
La-la-la-lu-lu;
she sang at the bayou,
La-la-la
La-la-la-li-li;
she admired his sherry,
La-la-la
La-la-la-du-du;
her weep as the dropping dew,
Once he found an angel shining,
Up flown under her wings--lightly,
Wrapped inearth her mourning,
Then confessed her purity--saintly.
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