O my child, when I'm dead
And you weep at my grave,
He'll listen to your heart, sad,
Sitting in the breezy wave.

O my child, when I'm dead
And you're all the way lone,
He'll embrace you, dark clad,
With Lights that are shone.

O my child, when I'm dead
And if I'm not to care of you,
He'll build silky-leaved shade
For your snug breath in blue.

O my child, when I'm dead
And the fire keeps burning,
His angels will be overhead
And douse the flames, flying.

O my child, when I'm dead
And the guns go on the arrows,
They'll resile them and bloodshed
Will fade and do no more woes.

I'd stitch up apparels of Give and Take;
Exhibit to those who don't such make!

At get togethers, I'd sport them certainly
And invite their reviews, fairly or unfairly;

Thoroughly teach them the art of seewing,
If anyone grasps mine to wear, bespeaking.

Soon, they'd get it must be the hottest habit
Of stitching such clothes to put on to live fit!

Happiness of the family
Lies in the smiles of father
He spills among them

Thousands ways are to change the world,

But kindness
Evinced for people is the best.

I wandered to and fro,
Seeking moon-love,
In people, for me,
My people, very immidiate,
Others, with various faces,
But no true love,
I have found in anyone anywhere.
Then I looked at the stars,
And they reminded me
Of my guilt
Of not seeking thy love,
Shinning through them.
O God,
Stud a star in my life,
Forgiving me...........

Don't doubt my love,
It's the depth
Of the sea
Of a mother,
Flowing up and down,
But has the flow,
And is forever.

Upon the bough of a bride birch
Perched two doves, their lips pursed
The leaves rustled, they made no lurch.

Glistened the golden glow, rolled their eyes
To break the ice his desirous palm he crept
And hers she withdrew but he liked the rise

Let's go back the evening is widely sable
Anon, the night will open up its massive jaw
And the devils will petrol and we're feeble

Squeal, mumbled she, adultery so heinous,
Irrimissble, frown-fetcher, and then I'd muse
If again living with you forever isn't outrageous

I admit, I bow, I seek your fervour-forgiveness
He stood up, cried and closerly inched to her
followed she, but moved on with unfriendliness

The confession carried out with much remorse
Won her heart, humble, and hugged each other
And flew to nest optimistic of no further woes

If
I celebrate Valentine Day,
My love is doubtful.....

Errors don't create fear;
They're the motivators
That infuse in us a new feeling of
Trying again with improvements.