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Blue kite soaring up high on cotton clouds
gently rolling by, and trees gazing up the sky,
A sound of singing lovers, a harmony so grand,
A song no one can sang.

The air steals a gentle bliss
from where their feets kissing the hazy mist,
A mint of scented moss, that sets the mood,
From gray rocks to pink balloons.

It was never a waste of time to be there too,
But only those who looks upon the moon,
In true heart’s desire, faith requires,
To see what true lovers often do.

Underneath the starry night
deaf ghosts sailing by, meant nothing to harm,
But just to bid goodbye, so tenderly they sigh,
For a moment in one summers night.