I think I need to invent a new alphabet for writing to you
as if you're drawn for it. And I think the stars must bethe orator that reads to you, when you gonna want to be
absorbed in that fancy-schmancy literature, well defined in
a lullaby sound, just for being dragged in those sweet dreams
grouped in familiar aromas with those kinds of emotions... —
of the morning, — with the top note, naughty...
of the daytime, — with the heart note, a privy gently solace...
of the evening, — with the base note, the irresistible love...
and in-between, — all notes combined and included in each
and any day, for being similarly as a cosmopolitan day from
an Indian summer hugged smoothly by winter's tenderness
