In that valley of love,
I want to nest my dove.
In that valley of love,
I shall find a hidden trove.
In that valley of love,
I should not need clove.

It behaved as the young dove,
I started chasing elusive love,
It shielded its valuable trove,
I found it hidden in the cove,
It smelt so fresh like the clove,
I gave it a much needed shove,
It fumbled right into my glove.

Scared before she could be my only wife,
Flew away on my tender touch a dove.

Abandoning the sinking relation-ship,
Caring not about the poetical trove.

She let me drown in the gifted grief,
Never cared to give me a shove.

To my eyes, it was just another blip,
Her hand was never in my glove.

The calm sound of happiness fife,
Than ego, she wants it not above.

It is strange how she lost grip,
Always like a princess dove.

Melted in heat of real life,
Such was her waxy love.