Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The shallow glass panes passing the faint rays,
Beyond lies the memory of bright days,
The green seems so thriving at the distance,
But here, oh, why is it so vague?
Had the photons carried the feelings of the touch,
I would have felt a soft hand in search
Of the droplets falling from the watery sclera,
Trying to rub off the pain and the grudge.
A scream from the distance comes with a rush,
Voices of the two making the clouds blush,
For the joy of the confluence of their lanes,
To the gilded moor with no hurricanes.
What lasts forever is not the moment of joy,
But golden spots on the memory lane no one can destroy,
Space and time diverge to separate each point on earth,
But feelings of the true heart that beats never rusts.