The clouds moved as the swift wind passed by,
They collided together like the wings of a butterfly,
one of the many I felt when your hand brushed over mine,

The folk of birds chirped circling around the white hazes,
As the mapple leaves flowed across the city of dreams,
Starring at the pretty cityscape down the hill.

The grapevine leaned slightly towards the left,
When a gentle gust touched the mauve berries, it went,
brushing through the ivies crept on the fence,

Sailing away the blue sky, a white feather...