Where Do They Go
Where do they go, the waters that flow,
That quickly accede to their primary need?
They tumble down hills
As onward they flow... to the sea,
to the sea.
And where is the Hue- (if only I knew),
That stayed in the past to be overcast
And lost in the mists
As the touch of her lips... are to me,
are to me?
The waters that flow to the sea are not halted.
The shores that betrayed them are ever assaulted.
The waves are still smashing, relentlessly crashing
Upswelling and tearing the rocks from the land,
The tenuous rocks of the land,
The rocks on which once I did stand.
But, the land is now falling
The day is now palling
And I have been swept from my home on the land.
On past the shimmering band
To where the black waters command.
But, what of the blue... of her eyes
And the brown of her hair
And the feelings...
The wonderful feelings of love in the air... are they past?
For there once was a rainbow,
A beautiful fainbow,
A wonderful mixture
A watery glow
A chromatic collection
A vivid injection
Of color and gaiety
Richness and show.
But, the spectrum is ended,
Effulgence is gone...
With the teardrops that flow,
As liquescent emotion,
Steals on to the ocean,
To move with the breakers,
That restlessly roll.