Look darling how our path is funny, strange and never straight.
Like the butterfly wandering in his slightly drunken state.
Come along the shoreline with me, watch the tide recede.
Bubbly lines of sea foam linger there in need.
See darling, how my hand is reaching outward unto yours.
Wishing I could pull you, up from your immures.
Time can heal and water too, in and out with seasons.
How odd the word ‘simplicity’ to one in search of reason.