Yet !                      

He has been there for some time.

You know him well though!

The one who sheds a tear and wears a smile;

yeah! The one who is blind and old and garrulous….you know

whose poetic ramblings have been in want of a rhyme ;

With words like heart and soul and sweet and honey,

The fool dreams of composing a poetry sublime !

With a zeal unabated and reason, the most uncanny.

When a poem rhymes, my dearest ,

People call it a song !

To rhyme, a line echoes the line nearest.

And lo! Together, they sound as a symphonic aplomb !

The rhyme dwells on paper, but symphony, an abstract !

The earthly has to rhyme to beget the unearthly!

Isn’t a newborn, a sweet remembrance of the contact

Unearthly, which the mother enjoyed, so very dearly ?

The song of my life needs a rhyme, my dear.

Yet, you denounce the words as being weak and frugal ?

To translate your sentiments, they stand nowhere near !

Isn’t a weaker human, a base or regal,

Capable of meeting the divine ?

Won’t you say, that could our love befit ?

The intentions, being very clear in my line ,

Say your line, oh my dearest , do say it !

                                                                                      -----Sauru