My heart breathes deep for her
Only a shadow, my idle hours
I await her with bated breath
But she is a mirage, I keep waiting
She is a mysterious angel
Tired, I retire to slumber
She gingerly enters in mid-night
And flings words as rapier
I carefully unveil her face, I gaze
At her ruddy shivers, I pause a little
I sketch her out with heart's colours
And do blend the hearts in warmth.
Is it a mirage, no, thoughts are real now
I cannot resist her and wants to fly away
I droop when I fail to bind her heart her
Though she is restless, buoying with verve.
When finally she appears before all
After offering me her angelic muse
I leap into a notch higher, I breathe free
The angel in the sketch rises to life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem