perhaps in this big, glorious world,
where mountains reach up to comfort the stars,
and the oceans push forth waves to kiss the shore;
where yellow, red and green leaves are blown by the soft caress of the wind,
and the brightly coloured flowers sprout up,
only hoping to one day grow as tall as the willowy trees;
perhaps in this large, lovely world,
i dont want you to tell me that i'm the only thing you see
because that means you might miss out on a raindrop falling,
or the first snowflake of winter;
and I could never let you do that,
for I know that these things are much more lovely than i
