It' s raining a bit outside. The drops are wrenching down the clouds. Pouring out of the grey sky a poem came floating around the air. Yes, From You. It's the only phrase I thought after weaving it off my mind.
Burning with the fire, the ashes,I know there's no one to read this, but I had to get it off my chest, I had to get it burnt.
Flowing with the air, the sound,
Running with the leg, the shoes,
Floating with the sun, the light,
Flying with the kites, the joy,
You're living,sohence do I.