The evening breeze,
the rhythm of the trees,
the song of love,
the honey bees,
I climb back under the covers
and dream of traveling horses,
starry skies, valleys and plains;
from which the mountains rise.
I keep my feet upon the ground.
She keeps her eyes upon the road.
Our souls, wild and fertile, roaming with desire,
Our souls, wild and fertile, roaming with desire,
but love ?
In that she is replete;
traveling from A to Z.
and i'm happy for her.