The dry season of love has
                Gone Fishing
With a barefoot girl with a
                Rose in her hand.

Wind blown curls about
                Her as she
Strips from her head a
                Rainbow band.

Warmth and tenderness
                Wraps the banks
As she splashes into the
                Cool river.

And though it's day
                The Moon
Is high and in
                Shimmer.

Fishing season wasn't on
                Love's mind.

But there's no place for wading
As some Times are
                Sudden to find.