A hazy, senseless rain in the night
Steady, as if summer was, ah
Finally taking a deeper sigh
From its ancient, billowing lungs.
Entwined in the lethargic retreat of
Violins and a thousand dreams
Of death and love; what could be
More terrifying and exciting?
Bowing, as if to say goodbye
With shoulders bent and bruised;
I hold onto those tears I let go
A long time ago, but still so near.
A cacophony of dank mushrooms
And mossy stones (remembering now, a river sound).
And in the mountain of mystic slopes
Deep in some obscure aspen grove;
I wonder if a similar feeling stirs
And grows?