Sometimes the day smiles
shows me its colour.
No, then the wild blue yonder
doesn’t look to be far
I feel like I got the wings to fly.
But who would sway away
when the rose under the nose
floating on a sea of colour?
The luminary punter too
drops down from the sky.
Paints the broad daylight
as it sails down on its silky way.
Ah, the southern breeze
bends with the rose of the day
peeps in the colour before my eyes.
I could only see missing my butterfly.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Sometimes the day smiles
shows me its colour.
No, then the wild blue yonder
doesn’t look to be far
I feel like I got the wings to fly.
But who would sway away
when the rose under the nose
floating on a sea of colour?
The luminary punter too
drops down from the sky.
Paints the broad daylight
as it sails down on its silky way.
Ah, the southern breeze
bends with the rose of the day
peeps in the colour before my eyes.
I could only see missing my butterfly.