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.