The smiling face on the mirror may be real or not be
Like the half hidden faces knocking on that door so green.
Just before he arrives on that bus that comes from village to village,
carrying coconuts in mass and there leaves.
And the children shining like the sun, so bright.
The ageless woman in her dignity in her ageless beauty she smiles at strangers, without impunity.
She cares not what they think what they say, In her world nothing's taboo,
She up front come what may. I invite them to sit as I face the valleys so deep
The winds so fresh coming through those hills in the valleys down bellow, the cashew trees.
At the church yard he enters so sure of himself, he's a beauty of a man so very handsome..
He stands there proud proud as can be,
Its written on his face that he knows what he wants he'll not compromise..
He came from beyond the sea from some far far land, he smiles at me and I nod at him smilingly.
As we sit together in the departing bus, through the tunnel he's hands searches mine.
I looking at him surprised, he had a beautiful smile his sunlit eyes looking at mine
With pretensions not as if he knew me.
Coming far far away any city anywhere he was very knowledgeable at the things he said,
So appealing was he. At the bus stop, we stopped for a coffee very amusing was he,
His laughter so contagious tinkling peals of laughter so unusual in a man perfect was he.
I could write and write pages on him.
When we said our goodbye's so sorry to see him go,
He was a breath fresh air so sad to see him go, as he boarded the bus back into town.
The sight of that departing bus from me,
Its as if an impressionist painting left unexplored, to dry in the moon light.
Through the streets I roamed through building churches ,
And at midnight alone at the station I cry inconsolably
Like a pilgrim I've been searching for the one,the one that lives within, in my mind my soul.
There're footsteps approaching I hope its he, but whether its him or not,
I want him not lost he's mine you see.
The sound of the bells sounding, the nippy hills winds kissing me
Now I see he's a different person, melancholy resides in he's eyes.
The face I loved the shadows of the night behind his eyes.
Our eyes met sitting at the bench not a word passed our lips,
As if we're two pilgrims at their collected pilgrimage..
Like the half hidden faces knocking on that door so green.
Just before he arrives on that bus that comes from village to village,
carrying coconuts in mass and there leaves.
And the children shining like the sun, so bright.
The ageless woman in her dignity in her ageless beauty she smiles at strangers, without impunity.
She cares not what they think what they say, In her world nothing's taboo,
She up front come what may. I invite them to sit as I face the valleys so deep
The winds so fresh coming through those hills in the valleys down bellow, the cashew trees.
At the church yard he enters so sure of himself, he's a beauty of a man so very handsome..
He stands there proud proud as can be,
Its written on his face that he knows what he wants he'll not compromise..
He came from beyond the sea from some far far land, he smiles at me and I nod at him smilingly.
As we sit together in the departing bus, through the tunnel he's hands searches mine.
I looking at him surprised, he had a beautiful smile his sunlit eyes looking at mine
With pretensions not as if he knew me.
Coming far far away any city anywhere he was very knowledgeable at the things he said,
So appealing was he. At the bus stop, we stopped for a coffee very amusing was he,
His laughter so contagious tinkling peals of laughter so unusual in a man perfect was he.
I could write and write pages on him.
When we said our goodbye's so sorry to see him go,
He was a breath fresh air so sad to see him go, as he boarded the bus back into town.
The sight of that departing bus from me,
Its as if an impressionist painting left unexplored, to dry in the moon light.
Through the streets I roamed through building churches ,
And at midnight alone at the station I cry inconsolably
Like a pilgrim I've been searching for the one,the one that lives within, in my mind my soul.
There're footsteps approaching I hope its he, but whether its him or not,
I want him not lost he's mine you see.
The sound of the bells sounding, the nippy hills winds kissing me
Now I see he's a different person, melancholy resides in he's eyes.
The face I loved the shadows of the night behind his eyes.
Our eyes met sitting at the bench not a word passed our lips,
As if we're two pilgrims at their collected pilgrimage..
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