'Twas brillig, when the wee sleek beasty
Did gyre and gimble in my fields
And ach! I feel but naught, but sadness
Plowing his home and stealing his meals

Don't leave us alone
We have forsaken the world for you
As we sit, stand and sleep
We remember you and forget ourselves
Color us in your color
It's hard to not fall in love with you

A month in all its glory
A garden running wild
The purity in the colours
The imagination of the child
A heavy scent of flowers
that lingers in July
When words set out to caress an ear
When the days turn out so dry