Like a moth drawn to the flame
Like the rivers to the sea
Like a blue note in a chord
Like a picture in a frame
Like the seasons come around
Like a roadtrip on a map
Like a child sitting on his lap
Like a lost soul but now found
Like the wind that blows my sail
Like the rain turns into hail
Like a coda without fine
Like a pause without a rest
Like a cross without a nail
Like a Night without a moon
Like a friendship’s never end
Like a reed that doesn’t bend
Like a picture in a frame
Like a blue note in a chord
Like the rivers to their sea
Like a moth drawn to the flame
Talking bout . . . . .
©️JDV-3-8-2020
De Schrijvende Hollander 
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