Monday, August 10, 2015


They tell of this boy
who would sit by the river,
and sing of the oceans blue,
and think of the people and me and you,
Love, he heard about
in the river's song
the murmurs of the breeze;
the trill of cicadas in the trees,

They said he was a mad one,
And thinking of the madmen,
he went looking for a mad one
found one right behind him
talking of madness besides his,
and feed him tea and oranges from Kashmir,
and enjoy the snows alongside.

And just when he meant to tell her
that he no love to give her,
then she stopped him
and said
let the river answer,
- it has already thought a lot more ,
than we ever could in a mortal span -
and it did, it said,
that they've always been lovers.

Now he wants to travel with her
And he wants to travel blind
And he knows that she will trust him
For he's touched her perfect body with his mind.

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