Canon 25

I like the white cotton,
tangling on the great blue sky.
I like the way you wear your hat,
as if I only look into your eyes.

I like the soft warm wind,
blows and comforts on my lip.
I like the way you smile,
that could make an angel bow.

I like the great sculpture,
as how you are meant to be,
and the lovely characters,
you have astonished me.

Rushing out in a summer clock,
but there's always a block.
Choking, choking up our nerves,
I wonder how to make it stop,
of all the every single clog.

The moment when I first met you,
it always starts with a normal Hi.
Then we talked like a long lost friend,
and you must be thinking that I was mad.

Neither climax nor suspense,
it solely peter out quietly.
Neither the end of the story line,
it merely channels to the another greater life.