Oh, Miriam,
when all your good intentions weren’t enough,
despite how right your wrongs were ever made,
there was no time to test if love would bluff
whatever false pretenses have dismayed,
so as you leave the river for a life,
the basket on its way and to its home,
don’t think there is returning without strife,
don’t think the babe won’t learn to live alone.
saunterings 