(You and Me Part 7)
The questions we raise,
The reasons we make,
None required, yet we say,
They all mean too little,
Just as little imperfections.
Your pronunciations, and my expressions,
Your feeling-low, and my getting-higher,
Your kisses, and my surrendering,
All perfect in dreamy frames,
All fitting little imperfections.
Me, your Tom, and You, my Jerry,
Perfect lovers, even if we can’t marry!
Not a single choice for the same colour,
Except the choice of being lovers,
Truly random, we are the extremes,
Written by our Lord,
yet we make imperfect scenes.
The way you fight, the way I laugh,
The way you look, the way I steal eyes,
The way you mess up, the way I clear it,
Way which is leading our destination,
Through many imperfect lanes.
You, my seventh sky, and Me, your cloud nine,
Together we bring every imperfection in line.
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