Oval mirror of the sea,
age-warped isle waved and cloudy,
each angle crystalline and salty.
my lens into reality.

Point of space just visible,
focus of beams ineffable,
swith of signals transmissible,
receiver of voices inaudible

At time's edge. No need have I to shout
in fear about this death of mine.
And any creature here is glad
to offer you a glass of wine.

Added: Feb 21 2003 | Viewed: 938 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Regina Derieva
Poem: From The Last Island: To Lady Elisabeth Verreet
Volume: Cross Currents, Spring 2002 Vol.52 No.1
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