Is it the way that you move or the
curve of your body?
The moon on the sand or the crash
of the waves?
Down here, I know you
cannot hear me,
But I nevertheless speak words of l
ove.
We float, as a dream, through the
vast open ocean.
We drift, as a pair, together at last.
Were I a rich man, I would spoil
you with the warmest gulfs,
Were I a merman, I would stay with you forever,
But my vision fogs, my mind grows
hazy, and at the end of the night,
I must come up for air.
