I Do not need to be staring at something beautiful; just special -- unique to me
I do admire what I see; my eyes taste fruitful joy, apparently
Won't you stay a little longer?
In a moment where I'm coming to meet with laughter—
Don't you want to see me in color?
Take my silver hand mirror and gaze into the image on the back
That imperfection is more reliable then the glass
No matter how pretty your face look; for mE it's about something special
The grass is greener where you lay from my point of view
WhAt of mine?
Does the sky not rain more so often to nurTure my field?
Does it not seem hygienic or tempting to feel?
I wish to water your dearly and see it flourish even higher
My dear, my joy is reaching in my soul;
And my fond of you is growing more Healthier than stronger