He moves like summer,
I dream to burn,
Even after my aversion to the shining sun,
Talks like rain and I wait like a pied cuckoo...
To quench my thirst,
To feel his presence,
after my thirst which is gone.....
He laughs like music and I feel the lyrics,
I got or feel a magic in me,
He's a sky full of stars,
I am the soul, full of scars,
Still, a cluster of stars, pretending to be...

© Lipsa