The sun peaks through my
window, and hits
your face.
I feel the heat on my arm,
my leg and neck.
The pure, slumber of summer.

How can I be down when the
world feeds me such
beautiful scenes?
How can I leave when your
face lights up when you
hear my voice?

How could I be sad when I can
make it through all of the hail of spring,
to see the rays of
summer, the beautiful
repose of my birthday?