Lines Of Love Poem by Naveed Akram

The lines of love gather dust,
Beauteous ashes of the everyday man.
The lines of harm disappear,
Forming worship in the signs.
One loves according to his wishes,
Once they fade into an eternal bliss.
You are fortunate this night,
From the attack of the century.
Time is a soldier, its march is distinct,
One of the commanders is not betraying,
One of the men is not a traitor.
The seconds have stuck to their love,
Clocks be strong this time you churn.
The line of love is the fortunate rhyme,
A wonderful wine so overflowing like rivers
Of honey and milk, displaying reality.