A bun or free flowing, a splash of morning colors, thrown careless on my thing of beauty;
Her momentary glance, pierces through my truths and all my lies, leaving me unrequited every time,
Listening, watching and hoping, befuddled by your bespectacled smile;
Like a cloud burst on a mountain high, you wash me over and everything within;
Oblivious, nonchalant, oh my distant moon, do none of my ravings ever float to you?
