Worlds apart,
we are still looking at the same blue sky,
the same green grass,
the same summer scene that seduces the heat of the most beautiful past,
the same birds that chirp their merry chimes, you know,
the same ones we've heard thousands of times,
the same bugs that crawl up your leg and down mine
and the same whispering wind that speaks like a mime.
Over the rolling hills and the calm still of the black water,
the same sentimental thoughts, like the heat, grow hotter
with the same wispy, white clouds that conceal the sun
as he turns to escape and takes off and runs.
And although the same sun that sits over us sets,
the same fire that burns still beats in both of our chests.