Under the pressure of the waves
of mellow floating like clouds
i like to fall and get caught
by greenish tongues made of wood
distant delicate earthly mirrors
to get lost in or watching yourself, falling
her smile plays all the songs
that i would always love to hear before sleep
in my backyard there is a special flower
a flower that grows between weeds
and its name is not in books or minds
yet lives in us all and never leaves