There isn't a color to describe how I feel when I brought him to my garden,
There isn't a word to describe my eyes when he was showered by ditsy drop of dew by surprise
And there isn't quite a name to the flower that blooms when we are in sight.Does love even have a color? I was told that love is blind.
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A Willow in my Garden
PoetryInspired by current muses of the fire. In other words, poems with flare!