Poetry for me is A man in love, art in the museum Asking a young girl not to daydream, but she dreams anyway I read in the old books that the very existence of human is an illusion, let it be So, I have built sandcastles, told my mother that I have counted all the stars, Planted rose-bush seeds in winter and saved it for spring I believe people are good and evil lives undercover And all that is love I will tell you about how my love is eternal, how all my dreams came true How magic is for real, I promise my poetry is not a song You must give me your time, both of us need to talk TRULY MADLY DEEPLY.