A Dolphin Symphony For Daphne
Daphne pined to be with whales,
singing in the sea,
protested she was dragged down
by the octopus of normality,
which held her in its tentacles,
disallowed her to be free.
She tried to paint a way to freedom,
but feared her riot art lacked signs
of the tempests in her soul,
her wild heart’s originality.
Sculpting dustily in stone and clay,
her civilized frustration,
she could not burn away.
At least, her boyfriend, Bertrand,
was constant and was rich.
She was pleased to be his muse,
him she would not deign to ditch.
One day he bought a boat for her,
and invited her to sail,
and now not just in sleep,
they leap like dolphins,
and know the language of the whale.
A dolphin symphony for Daphne,
Bertrand composed on harpsichord,
its pipes plunged in a pellucid sea,
swept far, to where oyster shells are shored.