November rain
You love me so much that even your dream
it dreams of me fictionalizing a minor acute
of your philosophy pampered paradoxically
with the structural capacity of your longings
while the art of November rain with desires
I'm Confessin'
Nothing is more beautiful than talking to the sea. You start to talk to it irrelevant stuff, telling a few simple stories, as if it might mean something. The sea doesn't stop you. It's listening to you. Even gives you that feeling, encouraging you to confess while it morphs your soul in harmonious healing waves. Involved in a dialogue with an imaginary presence, your status quo, instantly, ends up rolling back and forth. Till you see the change, a smile already populates your face. It's no wonder why the play of the lips, the frisson, the elegant acceptance, the conversation scene, coexist in a lush blue realm at open-minded degree.
