Oh goodness!
Am I fond of love, psychic blindness?

Love of human being?
It's detained in invisible framing.

I love the sky,
There I fly and fly.

I love wind,
Addicted to rushing this gypsy mind.

Love of lad?
Filled with interest wearing romantic clad.

Am I crying?
No no, my eyes look like usually tearing.

Downright lying!
May be it's my diplomacy of wording.

O oblivion!
Let me drop into you my cliche common.