If a thought has its own entity I’d like mine in the form of a dove Dewdrop-shaped, fluttering wings above It communicates in serenity Defined by infinity Like liquid crystal it flows Like a translucent flame it glows In a languid Sunday afternoon it grows To make itself known By you When the tip of its wing Brushes against your face Like a summer breeze Ever so gently without a trace And when finally sleepiness calls As dusk falls Let it find refuge on your shoulder With a sigh I can sleep too Knowing you are touched by my thought Satisfied that my thought rests with you |
