πΉ
It was the fourth moon of the last year,
when my spring arrived;
Dressed up as the winter,
everyone fantasised.
The spark in his eyes,
juvenile yet bright;
Tells me infinite story,
with that cute smile.
His spirit,
nothing less than a butterfly;
Absorbs the nature,
like a dew on the grass.
His presence,
just like the winter sun;
Warm and essential,
comforts me like the sound of the sea waves.
Maybe I was the one without the sight,
I kept pondering why he never felt tired being bold;
If only I understood sooner how my spring season adores me to the core.
As the days passed by,
I asked god if anyone will ever love me, if anyone will ever be mine,
Until my eyes beheld him;
his gaze, touches my soul.
draines all the agonies,
that has been piling for an epoch.
Then came a day,
when my heart pushed me towards the right;
I fell for you,
and yet I don't understand why.
Seems it all makes sense now,
god placed a mirror to understand why.
A mirror that holds my hand so tight,
that misery escapes from me for miles.
My dearest spring season,
where were you all this time?
