I like them peeping through the curtain of leaves, lost in the moss, closed in the drops of dew, hidden in your hair, setting, przecedzone the grass tickling shyly golden ray.
sun after the rain, which had not yet finished its caress and slowly, lovingly, flows swollen by recent drops from the leaves of trees, like a lover protracted moments just before parting.
delicate, tenderly smoothing the newborn leaves, mischievous, draws radius on a wall, as frisky child, consists kisses on the foreheads of the passers-by smile dopraszajac August.
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