The wine alley is of such depth,
That returning is impossible at midnight.
Do not whine on the risks in tides and waves,
As homeward you may row on these spirits.
-Wine Alley-
I am a hard rock,
For you a tiny flower is blooming.
I am a wild bird,
For you a voice of freedom is sounding.
I am NOT an angel though,
Pain is taken in growing wings,
With which I shall fly over to meet you.
In fact, I am your vanity mirror,
That beholds your unmatched beauty daily,
But is always frowned on by you.
-A Mirror-