Her dark hairs are like dark night,
And her sweet face is the moon,
Her voice is the melody of mozart,
Saying that rains are going to come soon.
Her earrings are like fireflies,
Flying around the moon,
It feels like a beautiful night of stars,
All though i was looking at her in the noon.
Her hands were cold and firm and soft,
Her breathe was cool and calm,
No flower has that sweet smell as of her,
Through out that red rose farm.
Standing in front of me,
Carving a strange feeling in my mind,
Her eyes in my eyes straight,
I don't know it is the feeling of which kind.