67


YOU ALWAYS stand alone beyond the stream of my songs.

The waves of my tunes wash your feet but I know not how to reach

them.

This play of mine with you is a play from afar.

It is the pain of separation that melts into melody through my flute.

I wait for the time when your boat crosses over to my shore and you take my flute into your own hands.

 

 

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •