ode

You say those proverbs as if you have contrive them

I know your arrogance but do not point it out

And you’ve not changed in three long dismal years

I think your flaws isn’t so much your fault as a charm

Maybe I’ll meet you one day

May be Wednesday

Maybe not… not…

Still I’m sure to meet you anyway

Maybe Thursday

Maybe not… not

I want to be you just like a leaf that has flown away with the wind and the rain

This romance is so mellow and so real

Just like a song that has died away with a flash in the night

I would like to be composed of you