“Words fall short ever in my heart,
Lines from my lips really fails to start,
When I try to pen you with, lexicon’s art.
Rhymes are scattered all in the sky,
Like a fleet of scurrilous beautiful butterflies,
To comprehend you but, I do not qualify.
Hours now my canvas is unspoken,
Scribbled your name just as a token,
Only to realize then, your name in itself, is a poem.”
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
“Words fall short ever in my heart,
Lines from my lips really fails to start,
When I try to pen you with, lexicon’s art.
Rhymes are scattered all in the sky,
Like a fleet of scurrilous beautiful butterflies,
To comprehend you but, I do not qualify.
Hours now my canvas is unspoken,
Scribbled your name just as a token,
Only to realize then, your name in itself, is a poem.”