True love lasts like aging rocks on sea shores, scarce its mighty fierce waves can touch its core to separate,since lightning bolts of thunder comes its way and remembers,those loved are.
What if love has its secret thoughts,of tight emotions,the mystic sacrifices—and suicides and bare forlornness,the fright and tenderness on young, unripened faces.
The lilac moon came high an altitude from mine to clasp its beauty,yet next to my bosom hide, lies she,like ten thousand silver moons illumine;and her soul’s music showered words as she spoke wide.