These days are short.
Feeling yellow orange, no trace of blue
Superfast sanity, of an artist’s taste, a bright mural, fresh and blooming
Old hands cover my eyes, those bright stars of mine
As I lift them to the summer sky, pen in hand
Flowers move in my peripherals, but I can see them fine.
There’s no time to ponder on the present.
What am I going through!
A warm sureness, nothing else is as important as this.
I want, I need summer forever
What a feeling. What a feeling.