The truth is somewhat lie,
That I love thee not O' Dear.
But what it may be to-night,
For tomorrow is mine only fear.
This night is not like the same,
Is yelling out tears of yearning pain.
The moon is pale with unleashed gloom,
Weeping out loud for each her stain.
I know not the pain of night,
Why she cries in gloom of me.
This must not be truth if I claim-
The darkness cries of mine poetry.
I fear, if you stop me to write for pain
There must be no drop of rain
Nor will the bright moon must shine
Neither will ever be the night again.
I hast seen the dusk of life,
And hast felt the gloomy time.
I hast never loved the creatures though,
But did loved mine own rhyme.
M.Saifuddin
©saifuddin
S