The word-plays full of mystery
In my agony your poem shines
Every question yielded poetry
Meanings lost in the twisted lines
A piece of your creation I was
You molded me any which way
Was I an effect or a cause
of your love I can’t say
What am I but a poem to you!
The upspring of nascent thoughts
had stirred the waves in a dull stream
The first touch, forced though it was
Remains my eternal dream
You play back the incidents
Dressing them up with rhythm
Mistakes, shadows and accidents
But love, you called it seldom
What am I but a poem to you!
Some random thoughts
Some Glistening shadowsSome sweet accidents
Some frozen bubblesWhat am I but a poem to you!
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