The Moving Train
Today, I see you. Speaking to me. As you speak, I observe more than I see. Your voice feels bold, more manly, More firm, more authoritative. Your face seems to grow mature. The beard that felt like baby grass Now seems to grow long. And life, Feels like a moving train, Leading to our destination faster. The Spring I felt on Summer Solstice May die when Autumn comes. The pretty Dawn must be you, And I, the Dusk, admiring you. As if you are the North Pole And I keep looking up to you from the South. The magic it is it seems, I utter words for you, But they fail to come out from my mouth. Days pass, months pass, What remains the same? The heart. That have always been soft, Will remain soft, despite the thorns On the way. Somehow amidst storms, Life happens, and prettiness arrives Always, They say.