“She looks like mist on a foggy morning, Her hair falls perfectly below her shoulders, like they can't have enough of brushing her soft neck.
Her brown eyes whisper to my soul, without saying a word. Don't get me wrong! She's not the epitome of perfection she seems to be
She's clumsy, she's confused. She's childish at times. She doesn't talk, she chatters, endlessly!
She's not perfect, she isn't. Why is it then, that i can't stop thinking of her?”