How I wish

How I wish

The heart always like

That of a child

Can’t tell when and why to cry

But don’t worry, soon it will smile

How I wish

The heart always soft

As a piece of velvet never washed

Nor ever iron-dried

With the soft soil, heart will be fertile

How I wish

The heart never wrinkled

Even in seventies’ age

Face will surely be graphed travails

Yet those in gazelle-like eyes still twinkle

How I wish, oh, how I wish

My heart will be always, on its way

To its eighteen, to its eighteen

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