Somewhere beyond the veil, far from the claws of civility,
Past the grey building that echos hostility,
Lies a humble hearth that would save my sanity,
touched by the goddess Hestia’s divinity.

Oh! Look-emerging from the lemon orchards is my lover,
Who runs to bring me a four leaf clover.
His golden touch makes me shiver;
I swear you could see his eyes shimmer.

You could taste the saline breeze,
That sprints from the languid sea;
the waves thrash in a symphony-
My brush drips with aquamarine.

You can smell the warm honeyed sky,
Curling from the fresh baked pies,
Or from the midnight hyacinths that cry ,
That my golden one helped reach the sky.

Those delicate fingers pluck the stings of  the lyre,
Resonating a rhapsody the gods admire,
That fills my heart with desire,
As I look dumbstruck ,this heartthrob I’ve acquired.

You say,“when you know you know”,
And I think I will finally  grow’
With my arms linked with my beau’
As we cocoon under the weeping willow.

But  my ears rings with screams,
As I realise it was all a dream;
My sheets wet from the streams-
Was it all just  my mind’s scheme?

My world now is once again grey.
I don’t know how will I go about my day;
My hands have no-one  left to sway,
For I am as lonely as they say.

You tell me, that memory I should not save,
But my heart is not that brave.
For after all, I am my grief’s slave-
You know each day I wish I were in my grave.