Deep inside the jungles, where only an occasional beauty of a light filters through. stay tiny creatures: lovers and poets, beaming on the crescent of a sliver moon.
or the sunset of orange The eyes that are blue or dark and deep with love eyes that are true
but like the breeze of a summer afternoon They sway like softly dancing, to an unheard of tune. lovers and poets strangers like flowers, yet intimate; as i am to myself. lovers and poets, flowers sometimes to never bloom.