Over a bridge we go running
I don't think I've been too much of a resident Anywhere I keep tumbling from person or place to another. "You're not Müller," she said to me. Know what? You're no genius, either; and yet, you are! I can acknowledge that as much as the next guy. An artisan, I would say. <Comprehend her words out of there.> A glimpse, she said. Taking a look at the darker side. Casting light over the shadows... Yet, here I sit. Letting my head go. Feeling the swoop as we hit the turmoil. I miss her accent, sometimes. Fresh smell of Iranian wisdom in the undertones of her dark! skin. "Sweep," I say. That might be what caused it. I've never slept enough to know. The Shiraz on a palate, colored as the inner doings of my recent regrets. Not telling you that I love you. I can't swear by it and I don't know where this takes me. "Am I delirious?," I asked. Not as quickly as we saw her coming, rushedly out of my refle