My dream of him is like a fogy day,
A beauty you may find hard to see.
The artist would make it an intriguing play,
Like the fog over the valley, he makes me happy.
Quiet night and the autumn breeze,
Shadows that move my thoughts all around.
His hands are here, I cannot touch them or squeeze
The nights remain my companions as I continue to dream.
He walks alone by the river in which I could swim,
There is no bridge, the boats are absent too.
If you listen to my heartbeat, you will recognise him.
I watch this peaceful river and I happily live.
Kristina
Saturday, October 17th 2020
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