Silver ripples rockthe boat as the river breathes,hugging the monsoon.
sometimes you will know
that it is Sunday morning
by the way birds fly
As darkness descends,
Heart filled with trepidation,
Wish to be cocooned
You were looking out
Somewhere in the horizon
I sat next to you
You was a stranger,
But the connection was strong.
We was meant to be.
counting my blessings
one two three or fifty-four
too many without