Cover the cold with a silk robe before the midnight rests on your shoulders…later the soft music of rain will visit you in your sleep…don’t hold back. The corners of the city will say their blunders but, you would not hear them all…for you shall ask your ears to fold. Falling dews on the leaves will draw out your sorrows but they will not dry until its 8 o’ clock…catch the first trip to get you hidden from the storm of ill wind. Tuck your silk robe loosely where you can still see the lavender fringes but don’t wait for the crows to talk or the Falcon to land on your arm…let no one tell you how the sunshine will be or how the crooked metal sound when it clanks. Just like the river… no matter the length of its bed; may it be angry or lively no one is bothered by it; it won’t tell you how pebbles and rocks tear its divine flow nor would it show you anything unwanted… unless triggered by emotions… Unless triggered by your emotions, don’t turn rivers into seas.