There is a women
A beautiful women
My muses in the sky
She giggle like the stars.
She's the poetry that graces my quill,
But my verses, for her, remain still.
Yet her eyes are not for me
Her heart bleed for another
Her laughter, a melody, echoes in the air,
Yet my love's presence, she seems unaware.
I pen ode
I pen song, ballad, rhythm of words, where voice fail
I paint her in million of ways
I craft statues in a image.
In tapestry of love, my threads are weak,
Yet my verses for her, passionately speak.
Forever the artist
And never the muses.
Desired
Never love
I weep for you.
I weep painted tear for you.
Oh, women, fool are me
Oh women, I love thee
