I like a crisp apple, And Orange better as a color than a fruit.
I like the proximity of my subconscious And the role it plays in ignoring bitter truth.
I like the scent that comes with morning, And the way the sunlight hits my bedsheets in a perfect square.
I like the confidence of a strong wind, And the generosity of mild air.
I like the shape of a circle And the way its circumference is always equal to pi times the diameter no matter what numbers you put in.
I like the spark of Lightening, And how Thunder's afterthought-response is shamelessly a routine.
I like how yawns are contagious, And that tingling sensation after a sneeze.
I like my bed after a rough day, with it's unspoken condolences.
I like observing night traffic, with it's cacophony of noises and symphony of bright lights.
I like the smell of a new book, like new knowledge and intricate guidelines.
I like the fluency in silence, And how facial expressions are more articulate than wordings.
I like the happiness, contentment and invisible details in small things.