Once the shades of that mirage had lifted,"What is this illusion that I have seen?",
My memory would challenge my heart,
I heard the song once of a nightingale,
It filled that open meadow with tune,
And left my heart crying with joy,
But the warblers prepared for their chorus,
Sincere but a faint reflection,
Soon the voices in melody of girls laughter,
Soared in such merriment,
And they'd be engaged by the sweet harvest of those rosehips,
Even the hush of the Pacific breeze couldn't compete for their attentions,
Such a wonderful presence,
The sisters of confidantes,
Smears of another thumbnail sketch would defy my charcoal impression,
And once again the shades of this mirage would lift,
It would only seem later,
In this vivid sentiment,
'The romantic journey of a visionary',
I love knowing the Human Spirit of Joy,
Has reunited everything that exists,
And all that is witness to the calm of that sweet harvest.
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