Walking underneath the sun,
get us filled with fun;
the blow of a gently breeze,
like it expel all the displease;
the sweep of a little creek,
fired everyones heartbeat;
the disappearing of sun in the red of evening,
doesn't give a need for our eyes, too;
the gleam of the starry sky while deep dark night,
causes that some minds will get light;
that I'm sitting here and try to write poems,
in fear you're not judging my problems,
while it's so hard to do for me,
I'll hope you'd have a nice after thee;
the poem already finds an end,
cause there were no such words coming out my hand.
