Queries Of Love
'Shall I ding my secret on the ears of air? '
I asked the crescent moon just to be fair;
And as she beamed her please to me,
I knew that I must it free.
'Shall I ding the past on water's ears? '
I asked the stars in thought of ponder;
And as they winked their gleams to me,
My lonely heart aglow with glee.