streaks of water..
streaming down the glass window..
the further time pass..
the faster it flows..
when will it cease..
will it ever stop..
will marks lay portray..
will it be drop..
to fragrance the room..
yet, the scent from the gleams seem to
cling..
is there hope
will there be chance..
to shine the glass..
as it was once before..
ques will always be ques..
wonder remain as dreams..
ques will be answered
after steps are lay ahead to proceed..
judgement on success will only then be known
to exist..
and here what the heart feels deep down within..
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