There is a quiet stream,

exists just beyond the horizon,

perhaps for some a dream

drift aside  original reason.

 

We do travel often in solo sojourn,

always to wish for this outcome,

better than the last, a pleasant turn

in waters spirited by her welcome.

 

Eyes will always create a sea

of emotion whether dry or stain

can embody love, we may see

sweet reflection in pools of rain.

 

A trail of favor will dance a crest

in fortune’s landscape we descend,

water’s cleanse, in delight suggest

we can wash away a bitter end.

 

There is a rise in a quiet stream

just beyond the last glen

where outside the pain we seem

awaits peace of mind just then.