She – Seventeen.
Write, Write and write about all that I wrote,
Wrote, Wrote and Wrote,
Many lines onto my mind embedded,
Many to dreams evolved,
Many dreams made me write more.
Oh’ so many thoughts, dreams and dreams about dreams,
With care, love and passion I weaved,
The material heart beat fast for senses to comprehend and reflect.
Fast breath broke the pre-dawn silence,
Then with the first break of light in the East,
All thoughts, dreams and all verses united,
And went invisible, unheard, nothing any sense can feel.
Body left bed, home and town,
Day grown tall like a country maiden in beauty and warmth,
The streets like scared morning doves scattered,
And the night into past went and from an unknown dimension, haunted.
Days passed, weeks to unknown depths fell,
Months mocked, and years to fate fell pray,
In the whirlpool of time, with stubborn inevitability.
Many events defined life,
Many moments left memories bleeding,
Oh’ that poem mind haunted, elusive remained,
As life in seclusion crawled.
Through ways dark and till now none ventured,
Many days bright seen but by western horizon consumed,
Then one dusk watching the inevitable, alone in the falling mist sat,
Far, Far away a little spot wandering eyes found,
That grown as every second to a long lost past dissolved.
Oh’ you came close,
In your presence horizons glowed,
In my presence a smile upon your face showed,
And then into your eyes I looked,
Ah’ through those eyes in clarity I saw,
The poem, dreams and thoughts in union disappeared,
When mind in the wanderings through fate lost,
Now in all purity as your soul glows.
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