Silent Love
It started with a glimpse, on a cold winter day,
A young lad was walking on a narrow dusty way
He saw her for the first time, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen,
They walked past each other, a magical moment to him it seemed!!
That night as he slept, he dreamt about that girl,
About her crystal blue eyes, about her long hair curled,
He desired nothing else but just another glimpse of her,
Another magical moment in the near-future
A young lad was walking on a narrow dusty way
He saw her for the first time, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen,
They walked past each other, a magical moment to him it seemed!!
That night as he slept, he dreamt about that girl,
About her crystal blue eyes, about her long hair curled,
He desired nothing else but just another glimpse of her,
Another magical moment in the near-future
And that moment arrived shortly, on the following Sunday,
They met again, this time on the market way,
His heart skipped a beat, it raced faster and faster,
His eyes only saw her smile, his ears only heard her laughter.
Love fostered somewhere within, and it grew day by day,
The lad visited again and again that same martket way,
He saw her many times, and secretly adored her,
Such was the irony of love, the silent affection of a silent lover.
And here I leave the tale, incomplete yet completed,
As his love was, a tale that may never be repeated,
A tale that will be lost, as a one-sided love or rather just an obsession,
A tale that was lived by none but just one lad, for whom this obsession was life, an intense passion.
And so a lost tale ends, of broken words few,
Perhaps someday it will resurface as a complete tale all new!!!
They met again, this time on the market way,
His heart skipped a beat, it raced faster and faster,
His eyes only saw her smile, his ears only heard her laughter.
Love fostered somewhere within, and it grew day by day,
The lad visited again and again that same martket way,
He saw her many times, and secretly adored her,
Such was the irony of love, the silent affection of a silent lover.
And here I leave the tale, incomplete yet completed,
As his love was, a tale that may never be repeated,
A tale that will be lost, as a one-sided love or rather just an obsession,
A tale that was lived by none but just one lad, for whom this obsession was life, an intense passion.
And so a lost tale ends, of broken words few,
Perhaps someday it will resurface as a complete tale all new!!!
