Two ducks float seamlessly, side by side
leaving nothing but a few ripples in the mind.
Which twists and turns, much like a helpless Fern
floating down, from the tree which never learnt.

When will the ripples be gone, what will there be?
Only stillness, maybe tranquility?
Will that too play in the mind
Of Circe's dream, caught like a riptide.

When will we float side by side?
like two heroes buried at sea.
If it's you and me; I'll be
proud. "As proud and punch"
If punch could float, like a cloud.