After the rain the fills the ***
And leaks out the side
At the last drop down the roof
Even when the wood is wet,
I’ll leave.

The freshness of the day,
Can’t match the lightness in my heart,
It’s biking past the bridges,
Pushing past the grass in the stream,

Soaring down the hills,
That pour out from the purple sunset,
Hanging down cherry blossoms’
Open hands reaching out to every path.

The train has yet to come,
But the heat already settled,
Cooled by the sun far back,
Windows mirrored in its light,
Peppered a village under me,

Going through all its tall corners,
The rails build themselves above me,
As I run past every shop,
My reflection follows along on the ride