In the midst of this fussy world;
The sound of that broken song seems so plangent;
The resemblance of beauty with imagination was always pleasant;
Yet the garden of mental imagery was incomplete.
I had that beautiful picture of nursery in my mind since childhood;
It still propagates somewhere;
Making the reflection of whiteness a bit dimmer than usual.
Fading away with the passage of time;
Accompanied with the events of joy and sorrow;
some have a blur impression;
But i have managed to amass them;
And hopefully my garden of thoughts will always remain with me...
