Ever heard of a time,
When love was sublime?
No, never ever in this birth,
But even under the pain that hurts,
I found a being,
A lady to whom my heart does sing,
And its voice makes my right arm to cling-
A pen, and a paper like it has got wings,
Flies down to the pen and I start to write in.
I write my love and my pain,
All the trust that I gained,
All the things life offered and,
All the success that I attained.
To be honest.
I don’t own any luxury,
Not a single trait to be called as sultry,
Yet you listen to me like a part of me,
When even my brain doesn’t consult me.
Sweaty hands and rusty clothes from an industry,
Is all I’ve got, I’m like a pale dry tree,
But I’m proud on God’s discovery of you,
Never wanna free my soul up away from you,
All I wanna just define and say,
Is not only that I’ll just rhyme if you stay,
But when you’re in my arms and play,
With my face and my beard, the love from the lips that I hear from the ears and would be missed my dear, every day of every year, until dear, you’re here.
And it’s surely my own dismay,
But I’m waiting for a special day, and after that day,
Every single, would be ours, not yours and not mine day,
Every former and the latter would be a Valentine’s Day!

By: Vish


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