A godly pluck
from your lips,
the nightingale sings.

I know your
concern for the trampled
mushrooms. Where
the fairy will sit?

I broke the
promise once, not to
kiss the buttercup.
Life was so hurting.

Sitting on rainbow,
sometimes you forget,
and start talking to eyeless
daffodils.

The Narcissus
was not me, pining
for the moon whole life.