I wonder when and how he touched and made me pretty,
I am looking at a poet, who has stolen fragrance from me.
When the ancient light decomposed in the rainbows,
Everyone who has a heart stole a few exciting colors,
I know it’s you peeping out through the windows,
But I am not like others I am a thief of your odors,
For my desired theft I do not need to touch you,
Don’t look for me in the crowd of your sweethearts,
So soft and delicate you are how can I clutch you,
I have stolen your fragrance and put it in the fine arts.