If my Valentine you won't be,
I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.

Love is like a two-year bonds
because,
hormones expire
usually two years later.

Swaying in the breeze
a mound of small chrysanthemums.
I'm lost in the strong fragrance of them.

Resting on the yellow petals
a couple of grasshoppers.

The sunset glow being spread out over the evening sky

A bunch of cockscombs grow older as season rolled by.

Also we do.

When We Are Free from a frozen form,
Let's Sing a Spring Song for Sprouting.

When the Terrain Drained after rain,
Let's Swim in Summer Sweat under the Sunshine.

When the Brown Season For All is Falling down,
Let's Harvest Fruits in the Forest.

When We Look down the White Field at Moonlit Night,
Let's Read the Criss-Crossed Written by Wild Creatures.