Debating not to look at the narrow. 
As water before wetting throat, 
Slid the way to cleave. 
Wondering the perfect weave! 
As it holded making look exotic. 

It cleared the times it faded, 
The fair skin was half red-ed. 
On the carrier's window seat, 
Up-downing it contacted heat. 
Even sweat couldn't hold, after drop of drink. 

Why have been we destined the same? 
As it stopped on rails and out we came. 
Oh, also the clouds failed to hold, 
It rained and the drops raced to the bold. 
Was it only my thirst which couldn't on thy? 

.    .    .