gold as the sinking sun
the cloudy sea,
burnt to the colour of autumn leaves,
floods with blue.

Precious things for which we do care
are not materials, but feelings intangible
so having them makes it even more rare
as it slips from your hands unnoticeable.

The beauty of the cloud is not in its height
the melody of a song cannot be felt with open eyes
we can make buildings with all our might
but it always falls short of the heavenly blue sky.

Love is not defined by a red box having a gold ring
but by the stall of time at the moment so divine
her splendid smile like a swan spreading its wing
her sparkling eyes telling the diamond to shine