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.