A thousand circles,
Flowing down the river of unknown,
Wonderlust within the petals,
Harboring roses in the middle.

Lost in a space of their own,
Turning in the same spiral,
Dancing on the waters of foam,
In their own lilly aisles.

Barked down in a deep village,
A stranger watches them just moving,
Alive yet with no worries, no age,
Only caring about their grooving.

Sat on a bed outside,
The stranger moves to see where they’re going,
Feet hitting the grassy hyde,
They stand next to the river glowing.

The flowers now bright as be,
Reflect a red and green rainbow,
Showering the field, house, and trees,
And the stranger that goes back to their shadow.