Rarely passing trees
And Eric Clapton's song,
Tricky flying bees
And time don't move for long...
 
Sleepy blowing breeze
Equips with smell of hay,
Nature seems to freezed
With fields all round the way...
 
Blinking ray of sun
Is playing on the bonnet,
Future's almoust gone
And thoughts make up a sonnet...
 
Softly murmured tune
Is coming from your side,
Through this day of June
To be with you become delight...