I can barely hear the melodies to his walk
sounded like old midnight wander as our feet soak
in the softness of warmth sand lying on the shore
our fingers are fixed intertwined wishing no more
the gradation of his footsteps and all his steps
his masculine arms, broad shoulders and strong biceps;
walls and frames of my shelter, my home and refuge
protecting me when my waves are 'bout to surge
though the aurora hasn't almost ascending
there are scattered darkness but he's now visiting
with nosegay of kaleidoscopic fresh flowers
my two nostrils can smell his scented loveletters
he looks neat as if will having a special date
bittersweet emotions pouring out; love and hate
cinnamon eyes expressing smiles and agony
words have symphony of rapture, melancholy
I sense from his cherry lips the haul of longings
arms drooling to encage me with coming mornings
touches dreaming to brush my tangling hair, again
the way his tears cascade tell that his life is vain
he threw me of I love you 'til the greeting twilight
rasping wind blew harder, darkness swallows the light
candles melted away then a man came nearby
“Sir, I have to close the gate of the cemetery”.