To their homes the herons find their way.
They might pass over mine, i think,
Yet, to me, home seems so far away.
The sun takes shelter under pink skies,
A curtain on the triumphant day,
To the wind that has long been astray.
The river too flows unhurried now,
A silent reflection of reality.
I stop for a moment and wonder,
If I’d ever see what she sees in me.
Sleep they must as the dusk sets in,
And with the day, a new spirit will be born.
But even with them gone, I must go on,
For it’s a long way to my dawn…