LXVII

Previous

You always stand alone beyond the stream of my songs.

The waves of my tunes wash your feet but I know not how to reach them.

This play of mine with you is a play from afar.

It is the pain of separation that melts into melody through my flute.

I wait for the time when your boat crosses over to my shore and you take my flute into your own hands.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page