180731
I am
so fond of
writing stories
on blank pages
as to giving colors
to a must be dark paper
On seas I saw bees
On skies I grew trees
I expect sun on a night sky
And wanted moon
on a broad daylight
I am
so fond
of giving
meanings to us
Like painting you
in my mind is my task
I am so fond of those
sweet fantasies
A world where
only you and me exist
I am so fond
thinking us ways beyond
When in reality,
It was just me
all this time.
