Unwritten Poetry Poem by Hardik Vaidya
Unwritten Poetry
At times she comes and refuses to leave.
She softly whispers this time let it only be we.
I loose my self in her warm embrace,
Buried in her bosom like the crescent of the moon,
While time meanders through us, on a Sunday afternoon.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
There are times when a poem comes to me, but I am lost in the poem, I choose to stay with her, rather then pen her down.
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5/8/2024 5:49:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
