ten twenty-five of the clock,
in the evening of September,
there were still gentle drizzles
but the heavy rain, the foggy sight
had vanished from the view
of my broken jalousie window

ten twenty-five o'clock,
in the morning of May,
i could hear the birds chirping,
singing, perhaps, their favorite song.
i gazed upon my sliding window
and saw the mesmerizing swirling
and falling of leaves,
dancing gracefully, beautifully.

ten twenty-five o'clock,
i fell but it wasn't a sight to look at,
i crashed and so do my sliding window...

spring season isn't near enough,
my jalousie window still has some of its part
but maybe in the morning of May,
i will be gazing again to see the dancing leaves
through my altogether broken jalousie window.