The days around you turn summer to perfumed blossoms, gliding from skyward,
like airily coated snowflakes,
One tossback of your hair is shockwaved joy to its witnesses,
and blinding arrays of majesty to flying, follow suit.
Impossible happiness is every moment you sweetly stare,
not just at me, at life and your adorations,
To rosily love each breath as you do is music to my soul,
But I have yet to find you,
This yearning, I do not understand.
There is throbbing of the blood in my heart,
Shaking the vessel of my love,
Metaphor for this happiness.
And even if you dont exist, I will live forever in complete bliss searching for you. The possibility itself is perfect ignorance.