Moving Water, Waits Too Long..(1

Beside me is still some water; and besides some one I lay, it's running off each stone, each trickle how it always flows. Funny how time lets dreams float often up away, down a little stream, the forest moves each tree, in a little closer. Soft splashes cover water those white cups of serendipity, and it defines each our wanting, something more exciting. And resting inside each hollow shaped yours too wish I am, and still too heavy large, I hold my breath, while you walk by. You stop, and bending down and hold out all imagination and wanting it so fresh, you shape half a moon around it.