It's now the fourth night in my white room,
Because a friend asked me to write about her,
She is like the eighth wonder like no other,
I can still replay the scene in my head,
On the day when we both first met,
Your long hair covering your cheeks,
Your eyes, smile and voice, so meek,
You're like a celestial being shined forth,
If I stared any longer..my soul would go soft,
What more to say to touch your hand?
I think I'd sink quickly into the quicksand,
My heart would burst into fireworks,
My spirit..be lifted up from the earth,
And my mind doubting my own worth.
I should stop here before my feelings grow strong,
I might dream of you and if I do it would be long,
So here ends my poem about her,
Perhaps one day I'd write another,
When I'm done painting my white room.
