Walking

Walking down a slow running path
I see a shape ahead so I speak.
Hey old man what ya doin
Standin in the sound of rain, I says.
Dreamin says he,
Of days long gone and the song of sun rays.
Tell me says I, 
What the feel of the wind across the waters like.
Cold and hard says he,
And as swift as the pig can fly. 
With that,
I flow on towards the end of a giant tree
Singing with voice of a small lost cloud.
Getting thirsty,
I pull on up to a swinging fountain
And start to drown.
But looking up
I catch somthing out of the corner of my eye..
And pull myself up a strand of star light
Into a caverm of moon beams.
Floating in the mist,
And listening to the frog croak.