To be a friend is to be a lover,
To be a companion is to be loved.
To be a lover is to be a dreamer,
To be loved is to be dreamed.
Isles of cotton float idly over my head,
Miles of ocean stretch beyond my bed.
An abyss swallows, whole and aching,
Saved by two anchors, love in the making.
A sea of horrors stretched beyond possibilities,
Cared by the anchors, embracing hospitalities.
Pulling myself from the ocean’s tide,
They make the weight stretch less wide.
Isles of cotton float idly amidst the sky,
Amazing how this rock is able to fly.
The ocean the air brews overhead,
Isn’t so bad with the right people by my bed.
Caught up in a rush, waves I barely saw,
My reflection, me, without the aching gnaw.
Watching the sea is I, watching the cotton pass by up there,
Content with the night, the storm I once couldn’t bear.
To be a friend is to be a lover,
To be a companion is to be loved.
To be a lover is to be a dreamer,
To be loved is to be dreamed.
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