Springtime In Singapore

Tropical currents generate warmth. Palms fronds and wild nectar drift lightly along. Busy, manicured streets run straight. Where can I hear that pure song? The tune from your heart so divine, it's melody can never be gone. Is this meeting the first or the last? Can chains be unlinked and finally stand broken? Fears have been realized and shaken. Too much has been written and spoken. Your intoxicating persona has drugged me. A wounded life cannot be bought with a token. I have dreamed of caressing your cinnamon skin, running my hands through your raven strands of hair. To be united with your soul in this world, on a distant island without a care, where stolen moments must last a lifetime. A permanent home is what we should share.