Sands

The shores of Barbary

Are sticking to my knees

A different kind of land

Where ships fall from the sea

Grand

The mock detective tale

That’s stuck inside of me

I wish we could set sail

As caprid escapees

An elemental brand

The grit between my teeth

From a shiny leg of lamb

And the joy of jealously

I’ve done a good job

Of hiding it

Where you’ll probably

Never find it

Lambs

Are nipping at the keel

Their moody undertones

Are a salty meager meal

Of skinny knucklеbones

I might just have to sing

Of a love long burgеoning

Of the little things we said

As we took our daily bread

I’ve done a good job

Of hiding it

Where you’ll probably

Never find it

Until I'm dead