Q u i d a m

Loving is easy but not to do so. . .

As the sizzling rays dance in the waves of oceanic land,

Maple of autumn leaves the fragrance of un-touched,

She came with chorus of melodious laughter—

music to my ears, I saw her in a sunny morning

slowly the white fogs started to scatter, leaving

the little beaming of rays, falling into her face.

and it's ethereal, perky glows' shrouding—

she fade out like a soft lullaby in the changing season,

they wax & wane with the pacing of swift cities,

I couldn't forget that smile; corning up in the lips

with the slow transition.

Around the first wash of autumn air, people started to move quieter,

but my feelings weren't supposed to grow,

as if the unnamed dream got a face to lure,

splashing a deep wave of intense conscious,

No— my world didn't stop right there,

I got addicted like the vintage wine,

hard to resist.

It's not a fairytale, where one is angelic—

but I was drenched hard with her dazzling

smile upward to notice further,

So, I painted colours in my black canvas

little by one, all splattered in one palette;

each hue brings a new spring to awake

the metropolis.

Her eyes were the most deadly as

she left to gaze around the leafy guardians,

don't know— if she ever raised eyes from weary tarmac,

every metaphor fails to describe, I couldn't help

but falter.

Frosty fingers brush over the gnarled trunks,

that was the canvases of seasons,

and it's bound to change.

A theatre of birds playing under-winged.

Loving is easy but hard not to do
& I'm given the latter one,
to burn the flaming. 
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