east

tiptoe,
then a bow,
been so low,
then not anymore.

go,
where the wind blow,
as I will follow,
wherever you show.

slow,
like the river's flow,
i'll see you tomorrow,
tender and mellow.

dent

finally,
I got one in my hand,
from one end to another end,
oh how it is made to stand,
not sinking further into the sand.

finally,
the blood is red again,
no trick to bargain,
no escaping the terrain,
just a plain new reign.

watch, as they begin.