Untold stories, unheard,
Told stories not understood,
Love felt less, laws overrated,
Skies seen, touched ground more,
Made less roads, followed more,
Thought less, views outstanded.

In The lonely aimless road of mine,
A stranger, showed me another way,
Lovely as The Moon herself,
Eyes distant as the road itself,
Hair as the dancing corn fields,
Took my hands and strolled yet,
I was never a good walker I guess.
My unspoken words, or the
Un cried tears, She never heard.

Fingers distancing themselves,
A hand, starting to let go,
The Moon thats setting,
The corn fields losing colour,
The road cracking, huh!
A tear to fall and vaporize.
Head to be pulled straight,
to be Looked back never again,

Though at the end of my roads,
I will rest on a ***** muds,
Hoping the same stranger to
Kiss me a rebirth, The painter
of the cornfields, the craftsman
who would make more roads
for both of us to walk once more...