True Colors

I think there's nothing to be wasted.
A doodle on a memo pad, or a faded photo has its place.
Unsuccessful memories, a passing fashion, a dream yesterday,
restless days, and a paradox that you can't explain,
they are all your elements.
Who knows what jump-starts your prospect?
Don't you think?

Small things can put me off my stroke.
A bit of excitment like watching a seesaw match,
A bit of flutter like the moment
I hear someone calling my name.

Small things can pick up my pace.
A bit of excitment like finding something new.
A bit of flutter like trying new　cosmetics

As it is often said I'm not be fazed by big things.

I'm expected to be here.
To welcome and support my family...
asking them their highs and lows.
I'm not talking about the hard luck story.
I mean...I can earn some money.
I can trot myself off to downtown.
I have my say. I'm free as long as I'm here.
But basically, I'm not supposed to go out, you know?
When I do, I feel as if I had left my heart behind.
It is a matter of course.
I am not an exception.
I'm an ordinary everyday mother.

I have a feeling about her,
when I make poetry.

She takes a long good look at me
with an easy smile,
and accepts me as she finds me.

I just take her dictation.
She is my inner nature.

I'm easy, I guess.

I don't yell.
I don't like to depend on people.
I'm not nosy.
I could act in harmony trying to be modest as much as possible.
At other times, I'm outgoing, and
I could even give you a laugh!

I just run out of breath once in a while.
Let go of me on such an occasion.
will you?