I saw him just by a glipse,
And the way his eyes blinks.
Im now down here waiting,
But my heart still aching.

He is my apollo,
For he is poetry to my ears,
He is my picasso,
For he is art to my eyes.

Love is seen not by the eyes,
But by the heart that was once cold as ice.
Though not worthy of thine,
You’ve made me from water to wine.