I love you so much that I could die.
Your face is burned into my very memory...

Delicate fluff
pulled...

What do I know of the land of Shiva,
the mantra, the sacred sound...

Magic is a wandering drive.
A country road and a country song...

Two birds perched pretty upon a branch by
the quiet stream. The jungle deep in the lush...

Weary
exhausted by the sunrise...

Of whom I would like to say
bedazzled hazel eyes...

There is no telling
what I won't do...