Sitting shadowless isolated by the aspects of reality
I wonder when will she appear.
Impatiently waiting lead by false mentality
My mind creates a fallacy near.
Dressed in silks that blow in the wind
Locks that swirl of passion at tip of each curl.
Sunlight cuddling with her lips as she grinned
Displaying her teeth the color and price of Perl.
She walks barefoot leaving footsteps of flowers
While the wind sings swaying to the rhythm of her hips.
She draws closer sunlight replacing mellow rain showers
As I notice my reflection trapped in her lips.
Her lips draw closer scented of pollens and herb
Out of all days of getting high under my tree this was the day.
We took process in an F word seemingly using it as verb
And then she vanished and wondered away.