January

The world is sometimes something
beautiful, love the goats.
January and the days are getting longer,
spring towards the sun
shining moment, glowed for a while.
Capturing the feeling of love,
tightness in the head hoop.
I am writing a story,
an ode to the capricious ram.
It is not always money that
the world is best able to rotate.
January woman gets to see,
concentrated in the future?
Who would want me to seem connected?

Solid intoxicating sense of the bone,
thoughts spinning in the stars, moon.
The remaining dreams only
they commemorate the last year
I had with me. I miss you,
Humor caused it.

Never play with the feelings of man,
you can generate too much longing.

Note from the world wind
I turn my back to cold.
Last rhymes to this story twisting.