The little crickets make gruesome noise,
As I stared in today’s horizon,
The cold breeze at times blows,
Then it stops, bringing the warmth of your love.
Thus I wonder, do you think of me?
I ponder at the thought…staring to the horizon,
…that I view as your eyes…
Looking at me…guiding me…tending to say,
I am there…here for you.
At this thought,
Tender breeze blew,
Maybe you are the horizon,
Or an illusion I own?
Mortals are we!
Illusions we perceive,
I know its you,
So I look the moon,
That moon so round,
I looked and stared up to it,
Mystic face it seemed to make,
I stared it till the horizon cried…
It felt warm,
I was drenched,
Shivering yet hypnotic,
I gazed the moon,
The cold breeze blew in mighty fury.
Thinking you might…as well be there,
Thinking of me…the way I do…
I retraced my steps…
Yet my destiny…I failed to know…
No comments:
Post a Comment