Dew slowly falling it drops
are as heavy on the bush
the roots grow below.
There is a door, it is open.
Flowers bloom, leaves are you.
I come walking by.
Your tears they fall natural
and when you come back around
I am their always waiting
you are welcome.
The path winds around each sleeping hill
and your face when it's near me, includes.
Each night the foot prints when you,
where I stand
white are left over the soft covered sand.
Each morning when you come back
All they are now washed away clean
and walking away
I turn looking back at the sun.
And as I wait for night to fall.
The moon when it's full
rises and only when you.
But my mornings are much to long.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem