Like an Emersonian transcendentalist, I can feel you my dear,
Here, there, almost everywhere,
In the tender blades of grass, in the heavenly smile of a baby,
And the whisper breezy.
When my bare feet touch the earth,
The coldness brings with it your warmth,
The cuckoo makes me miss your voice,
I don’t blame it for reminding you rather express thanks.
The butterflies carry your soft kisses for me,
The moon gets jealous since looking at her it’s you can I only see.