I am tired of the moon; it shows its face too early,
I want to kick the sun; it rises before my clock tickles,
The rain makes so trashy sounds; pat pat tap tap,
Yet! The only thing that I find all right is you.
The ceiling too high, yet; higher is the sky,
The floor so dirty; yet, dirtier is the ground,
The books scattered all over; my shoes too tight,
Yet! The only thing that I find all right is you.
*The edited version of this poem can be found in Ayangti Longkumer's Magic Quill.
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