The wind blows strong,
at the very sight of you,
as though its only wish were,
to feel and caress you.
The rain pours down,
at the very sight of you,
only to drench you,
and feel you through.
The sun soars high,
at the very sight of you,
seems to be jealous dear,
of a heavenly beautiful you.
Why cant I renounce,
when even king of imps can,
what this world could give,
if I ever have you.