Mirage
A river cool, we sit for hours,
I love your eyes, you love the flowers.
Before your eyes your hair, red streak.
I raise my hand to touch your cheek,
But I grasp air, you are not there.
A river cool, we sit for hours,
I love your eyes, you love the flowers.
Before your eyes your hair, red streak.
I raise my hand to touch your cheek,
But I grasp air, you are not there.