The Moon swings back to elope
A charm of Humming birds Fly, quick
In the air above,as high as hope
When I listen to their Sound of Music

I sit beside the lake
My gaze transfixed in the fire
Ever young is the ripe flake
When my heart pounds with desire

Have seen many-a-few,
Whose words are a honey dew;
My heart wanders for her love
I need a metaphor for my dove

Alone leaves me my mate
In the woods of desire
All day I eagerly wait
And sigh my breath in the mire
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~nirvana