Lost in translation

Unconceivable is your touch

Tracing the lines of flowing stream

The thread remains uncrossed

So misremembrance is but a dream

In bed, gently, you whisper

Sunrise is near the window

You later ask me through the door

Why I’m treading in the shallow

To what you said earlier, I reply

With the language of the unspoken

Your form sure does make me sway

If an eye for an eye was what was insisted

Then reaching you is implied either way