It’s all there but different the sky, the clouds, the cypress trees they waver in the wind and then, with ease they are making their appearances a light kiss on the water making their appearances a light kiss with their faces
they see themselves they see themselves they see themselves as they are
reaching for the other shore as if yearning for a lost love as if always wanting more.
It’s all there but different like a sweet and silent specter this almost mirror shows them bend and sway to a shifting breeze the wind it is the music the trees they know the dance the water is their theater ballads of doomed romance.
It’s all there but different mossy islands of envy green at first unseen, now float in between this elusive landscape thirsty and drifting on a sky of pink like young continents waiting to be discovered.
Some things should be shared...art is one of them.