Wednesday, 13 March 2013

But I was In Love...



Her Smile Was An Indian Trumpet
Knocking At My Banal Mind
But Lacked The Essential Lucidity,
Just Like A Pic Of The Taj,
Taken With My Mob’s VGA Cam...

The Rain Was Still Nastily Drowsy
Keeping Me @ Just 100 Degree
Under My Grandpa’s Dusty Blanket.
Violin Was Still Another Musical Instrument,
My Night Snores Still Challenged The Croaks,
Rose Was Still That Red Thorny Flower
White Doves Were Shitty Enough For My Yamaha RX
I Never Dreamt Of Butterflies And,
My Heart Always Had Arteries & Veins...
.
.
.
But I was In Love...

3 comments :

  1. Love has is a mysterious affliction, it strikes each in different ways. If the rose is still a red flower with a thorn for you, I'm certain the lightning struck you elsewhere, in some other manner.
    Do keep writing, you do a really good job of it :)
    God Bless.

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