...
I am wooing the eyes of the sun
Which louds my smile embracing my cheek.
I am coming with plates of gold,flying high like the shot arrow.
...
The breeze bothers my sight
And the light shining from a-far
Coward not my heart.
...
The high is heaven
The roses held blooms
My feet frozen
The shut lamp treads. the path
And the fireflies was my eyes.
Mused...2016 ©