His love is the fluorescence of the fireflies
That dance around the grumpy bushes
Beneath the fragrant mango trees.
Tis sometimes the gentle breeze
That kisses the fluttering, gay leaves
And charms them with the magic it weaves.
Sometimes it's a shadow in a meadow,
Formless, colourless, seeking her essence,
Sometimes, it's a beautiful rainbow
Lively, yet unaware of its unique brilliance.
Her soul knows, life may be long or brief,
Drenched in his love, it'll know no grief.
