It must be love
The way the peaks of white mountain
Point to the tops of blue sky
The way white birches dance in the old
Wind like never before.
The way the sun rises and sets
The way stars sparkle and twinkle
As if for the first time.
The way the horizon arches to hold the moon
The way your words touch me in my sleep.
It must the love,
A new way of being.
The Year of Dragon