They , the grass carps
eat away the algae of my brooding from the pond of my feelings.
Like painters , they paint the blank canvases of my life with unforgettable sweet and beautiful moments by their delicate and innocuous jacose paint brushes.

Tickling me with loads of laughter by their innocuous hilarious acts is their shadow.

Folding the tender age of the two little beauties into my palms for ever is my fantasy and living with their childhood memories shall be my ice cubes on my burning wounds.