As the Scenes Change

If I can not hold the bird It's prudent to let it accompany the kite When the hues take a distant flight Won't it be a fun with black and white Desires to become, we do have a lot of Dense grass, blue sky, three kingfishers The river, we have got, never looks back Nevertheless, I smile in your mirror Notebook and red pens beckoning us Olive branches call at the window At midnight, the moon gathers the guts to creep slowly toward my pillows While observing the pictures, I fill many a pitcher Drinking the embroidered water, I become richer