I know she is not real,
Yet,I write for her;
She is a figment of my imagination,
One of my creation; And
Somewhere,Deep inside my mind,
Lies a canvas filled with her art;
A art,yet to be complete,
Where My words work like colors,
My pen acts as a brush;And
With each word I add;
She becomes real,
more and more real; And
When I will see her in real,
I will devote all this to her;
For she was the one who,
Inspired me in the first place...
©desireddreamer
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
I know she is not real,
Yet,I write for her;
She is a figment of my imagination,
One of my creation; And
Somewhere,Deep inside my mind,
Lies a canvas filled with her art;
A art,yet to be complete,
Where My words work like colors,
My pen acts as a brush;And
With each word I add;
She becomes real,
more and more real; And
When I will see her in real,
I will devote all this to her;
For she was the one who,
Inspired me in the first place...
©desireddreamer
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