by David Asamoah

A thousand suns had come and gone before him
What made this one so special? So enchanting
That even now he’d sit and wait adoring
The golden light shine on the stream, and dancing
Pebbles swirl in the low tide returning
To kiss the worn out coast. On that still morning
The sky was clear, with post-dawn blush still burning  
A face appeared in the stream he was awing
Its gentle smile like Spring’s calm, cooling breezes
That flow so smoothly, softening noontime’s harsh gaze
Its deep set eyes a mystery held that teases
A hidden yearning, looking at it always
He goes to reach his love then he starts sinking
While his love’s image keeps on faintly shimmering.