I like first raindrops on my lips,
Walking barefoot on grass dew topped,
Listening to birds making the flips,
Rustling noise of rice plant before cropped.
I like lazying in the afternoon,
“Gone with wind” my special knack,
Looking at the sun setting the tune
Counting stars stitched on the black ,
They become insignificant,
When I hear you coming,
Rustling sound of you innocent
a sweet fragrance reach me humming.
Through your dark brown eyes
into your heart, like to take a peek,
the compassionate blue skies,Nothing more do I seek,
.
Pen and paper 