Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth...
Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.
Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands....
A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.