The dreams in its height,
Was a war of my mind against that plight?
Tunes of my whistle to the fragrance of springs,
echoed back into the emptiness of my mind.
I was a late wonderer over the stake of confusions.
She flushed against the fringes my heart.
She was a laser in the beam like journey of my life.
Am I a materialistic toy in this worldly attached impulsiveness?
Night were into its darkness,
and I threw my wearied eye to steal a glimpse;
through the dazzles of late fireflies.
The moon of that eve was swapped by clouds,
and that last star was in a verge of disappearance.
I dropped my gaze to hold;
the dances and gesturing sparks of her eyes.
Higher and above,
than those imaginary twinkling stars and late galaxy.
She was peeping from those unknown horizons.
Was it a Wine in wind from north to whisper me?
Warmth of her touched were deeper then the deepest.
Her cheeks redder then the apples of late season,
was even sweeter then the sweetest of all late breezes.
She was a candle of dreadful midnight,
and a quotient of my beings;
enriched with the delicates of dahlias and night queen;
breaking every dark mirror to the chastity of heavenly bestows.
“How can I build a bridge to span you”?
I purred her through cracked heart,
to lend her the rhythms of my endearing -empathetic heart.
I was a ragged victim of stormy war, embedded in tulips;
for conqueror of hearts are the conquerors of a battles.
I was a complete summoned criminal to conceive;
and bounded to heal under her sympathy.
My breathes waited for a word and world,
to listen the ode of lark with lass like her on laps.
Unread scrawl of woes in the scratched pad of my heart,
back held’s her tongue to cross our dreams.
She got stamped indelibly;
but the silence of her incredulous eye,
reflects the denial of my essence.
Now, have l not starved and raised enough to this lassitude?
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