This night

I search the lonely streets one time again , tonight might give way to miracles under a Westland sky by that flowing fountain head , she whispers many rivers     Talks around crisp cotton  worries   Yet he's trying to stay brave , His God did not give him a sense of fear   Leaves waits patiently, pages of wisdoms and kissed silver ruffle his numb fingers    Waiting , he obeys what his heart doesn't allow him to understand   One day near that noisy train ,  a collision shall kiss his time , closer she smokes and chugs in a black pine symphony  fields of lonely , with sweet gold