So Long, Lonesome

 Good morning to dreamers in harmonic symphonies Plant one in the sweetest plot and make something of great beauty These dreams are fictions in realms of far These wants are only wishes on distant stars But the wind is soft in its caress And moon smiles sweetly in her white satin dress A pair of eyes close slowly upon inhale Illuminating the ships and their majestic sails The wind in its want moves closer to see The look behind those eyes and the color so free So a gasp will hang in the air Caught by a cloud passing by in despair For this cloud desires the moon but she simply cannot confess How it longs so to touch just as wind can caress Two lovers drinking tea under umbrellas in a garden Had nothing left of the spark that the stars borrowed from them Implosions is imminent in the affairs of what does not exist Waiting is futile--it is pointless to persist