2016年8月17日 晴
Though engraving her an inch baby
She is packed as a small school lady
Curly hairs on shoulders swaying
I sigh with emotion time chasing
Fathers and mothers became graying
Cultivated baby trees up growing
To shade the twisting backs
From naughty sunshine and bitter rain
I sang songs lonely but whispering will
Pray for every angel to comfort aging
