When mushrooms grow and frogs crow
There seems a rush of water
between to separate bodies

The sky is sparkled
with an unprecedented glow
when one curls around the other
ignited  to explore
and somewhere to plough

It is frogs and mushrooms
that herald the day
Nobody minds how long it lasts
Never finds if it's  sea or bay

When the color of blood
reluctantly turns to be blue
The glimmering eyes
finally try to see what may be the clue