T'was my 17th spring,
When my heart-on it's long barren and dessicated veins
Discerned red blossoms dangling-
Of love,so purely yours.
Your eyes-a masterpiece in shades of black-brown-
I knew had words umpteen,
Engaged in coercion for you to whisper into my ears,
Creating a whirlpool of emotions
Somewhere safely buried.
'Home' I comprehended then,
Wasn't four concrete walls,
T'was two arms and a heart,
Warm.beautiful. tranquil.
Long poisoned love, now purified-
Your love is nectar,I say.
And you flash your beautiful smile,
The very one I'd die watching
Between sunrises and sunsets manifold.
Your voice-
Dulcet,calm,soft,
Speak of forevers and Us-
A love story-
Beautiful,serene,sorcerical.
And 2 springs later,
I find myself treasuring the brown petals,
Of the rose you gifted that 17th spring,
Between the black lines of inkless pages-
Crisp brown,withered,dry.
And yet fragrant,
Soaked in your love.
Some fragrances don't dwindle with time
Our love is an epitome, you say!
P