By My Love
I think, I know
Love is the owner of a man.
Who cares his soul
I think, I know.
Man is born
And dies because of love
None can live without love.
Love is not a fiction
It is real and solid
That’s the definition of love.
Leniently does love look at the world
Alas! Those days have gone
Now love is on scrutiny
By each and every one.
Man grows, day by day
Only physical growth
Bereft of feeling and emotion
Just a picture book.
Static and still.
Rare is my love
Feathered by mirth
And nourished by,
The milk way of possibility.
You may also love to read:
Follow Offline Thinker on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can send us your writings at connect.offlinethinker@gmail.com
Facebook Comments
