"You are so absurdly naive," my friend said. "You'll just be a poem reciter and nothing else, like the small kids in school. Twinkle twinkle little star..." His voice was full of contempt. "You are stupid, why would you waste yourself on something you can never have? Oh yeah because you get to write, how stupid!"
I just said, "She inspires my art and that is a privilege enough to love and cherish. Every other reason I can have to love her is just a cliché of the everyday guy she will find in plenty.... But you know I am not that everyday guy!" And then I laughed.... Because I look so very much like an everyday guy....

When rains fail to none,
When the first sun shine is so flawless,
I wait for her to come by
This September it is
I'll speak with her I tell myself

I ask her friends where she has been
'She was around we don't know'
I just remember I saw her near the statue
Early on this happy day, so broken!
I see through the windows, waiting
She is a novel beauty and I am broken
This September it is
I'll speak with her I tell myself!

I'll love her so perfect
She's so flawless in her own way
The birds never cared for seasons to leave
Why then should I wait for these clouds to depart?
This September it is
I'll speak with her I tell myself!

Walk up the floors to see her
And wait for the science class to end
I had to know her, know who she was
It would be hard to part from her, my friends had said.
I'll then go to the stars and cry, I told them,
I remember....

I was putting a puzzle to sense
But her questions were something I waited for long
I had to know her, know who she was
It will cost you your sleep, my friends had said.
I'll then go to the moon for a blissful coma, I told them,
I remember....

I had to ask her a question
Would she love me the way I do?
I had to know her, know her better
Her refusal will bring in dark clouds, my friends had said.
I'll then fight the clouds for the sun, I told them.
I remember, and I will remember her forever!

If she is to go away,
What good will art then be?
The stars will glimmer
But only in the bright daylight
And no one shall see their presitine antiquity.
She will then be,
A season gone, but never to return!

She is a season,
That season which gathers rust and turns it to gold.
She is a season,
That season which calms the restless seas forever.
She is a season,
That season which puts away the evil of this world!

If she is to go away,
What good is then my existence?
I shall write poems still,
But they will fade away to the unknown
And no one will know what thoughts they evoked.
She will then be,
A season gone, but never to return!
This poets grave tragedy!

I wonder what goes on in your mind,
I question myself for silent answers
For some days your thoughts seem like,
My beginning and my end
The song of my heart, my muse
Your simple nods and smiles
Never stop drawing me to you

I wonder who's that singer so lucky
The one you so like!
Oh how could I forget its not just one but many...
That boy band you love so much!
For some days I envy them
Wishing I could hold a guitar and sing songs like them
The song of my heart, my muse
Your simple nods and smiles
Never stop drawing me to you

He wished she didn't belong to someone else
He wished she was the novelty he had always desired....
He wished rainbows, butterflies and Science never existed!
And he wished stealing glances would be much easier!
Oh how he wished to make her feel beautiful
And ask her if she was fine with some shy talk!
Is it love or a rush of sweet tidings?
He wished to know the beauty of her soul
And the sweet fragility of her visage,
That turns the ardent days of autumn
Sick and pale with envy!

Photographs, they sing as the mellow songbirds
They speak as puppets,
Telling me only what I wish to hear
And what do I desire?
There's still a cloud over me,
While my hopes jump high
It is her photograph I can only smile at.

Who knew my fate?
Gods? Angels? Science?
The Heart, a scoundrel of renown,
He laughs at me,
When I smile at her photograph!

There lies a sadness sweet as honey
It hurts but still I am not afraid of her denail.
For I have loved her and she will Iive on
And her beauty will stay alive for years!
What worth is a picture of stillness?
When the lover has words and music!
When he has her smile and shy nods,
And that's an approval enough....