She can catch the sun with her arms
or invent a flower with a piece of cloth,
turn on the morning with just getting back on,
open some window and the air sneaks happy,
as I never went without her.
She weaves a story of light and cotton
and in its path the shadow becomes color,
never says 'I am yours' just like the April moon
but daily is delivered brilliant and whole,
complete, sincere.
As long as it protects my song there is nothing I can say
to speak of his lips there are no exact verses or subtle rhyme.
Is that so? and so? be?.
Is that so? and nothing more.
She plays with Mars and turns it into a tapestry,
double the world in two parts, love and live,
Could it be that someone used to be ?? between his hair dream
but do not enter your dream, as I wake up
dreaming of her
She has a good song in her eyes
and on the chest and back a constellation,
untie hurricanes, embrace me and turn off the light,
hang on time on the hanger behind the door
and then it approaches.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)