…I will remember you
In the space between thoughts.
That’s where the night
weaves a dream
That’s where the earth
kisses the dawn
That’s where the dewdrops
come alive…
…I am the kind of wanderer
who stops to smell
the wild flowers on the boughs
and feel
the moss on the bark The kind of wanderer
Who dips her feet in the stream
And tosses droplets in the air The