Friday, 2 August 2013

To A.S

You, my love, are dearer
Than this beating heart
Symphonies of Mozart
Than the last drop of water
That quenches the thirst
Of a lost wanderer.
Dearer than the earth,
The womb and the tomb
Dearer than the swaying breeze
The whispering trees
Dearer than love itself
Its thrill, its promise
Dearer than the sentient
And the insentient
Dearer than the pristine dew
Moistening the eyes
My Dearest...
Without you
There are no vices, no virtues
No utopia, no pastel hues
Only the grey melancholia
My Dearest...
You are a fragment of this soul
You're mine, from conception
Till annihilation; its sweet adieu
My Dearest... 
I love you.