As Good As It Get's
On glorious, golden millpond we sit and speak no words
The evensong is calling it beckons in the night, as wings take flight
Silhouetted dancers forming on the water, causing softened ripples
that gently rock our little wooden boat
Still we sit in silence, as coldness chills our bones, the sun is going down
I look into your eyes and smile, we very rarely frown
The water that was crystal clear have turned a muddy brown
So we gather in the oars as the ripples find a sudden strength and
darkness shows a menace
But we're rowing with conviction and a purpose in our minds and
still we do not speak
It's been a perfect day as we wind our way down stream, to the lighthouse
we call home
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2012
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