His eyes are a world in itself,
where the bright sun never sets.
I lived there back in the days when I was merry and gay.
THAT was home. It remains to be my home;
yet I'm homeless today.
Looking into those mesmerizing eyes
was to feel tranquility, was to feel the cool breeze passing by.
And each time I wondered what laid at that fathomless core?
Look of the lord? Or the sap of spring?
That once you consume, you only want more.
To watch his gaze ascend was to watch a bud blooming in your garden.
THAT was home. It remains to be my home;
yet I'm homeless today.
But I must say, if I may- that those deep bowers are not mere home but my world.
My very own 'LOST' world.
Those eyes are my language, and when they speak the language of MY universe,
I am at home. It remains to be my home and everything else falls back into the right places....
YOU ARE READING
Azure...A collection of emotions
PoetryWhen you lose someone, you try to remember that last time you saw them. and most of the times it is a blurry memory, because at that time you had no idea it would be the last...
