Rivers-
so beautiful,
when there is water
flooding like youth
through her veins.
The moonshine
plays flute at night
to make her sleep
In slumber deep.
The sunshine sprays
Dusts of golden dreams
on her curves of youth.
The shadows
of old, fading afternoon
shed like drops
of tear, disobedient
on the cheeks of silence.
A song of melancholy
disperses like
crystals of salt in water
when she is no more
with and within me.
The mirror denies
me an image
on her water,
the silent journey
to the sea.
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