My poems, perhaps reach you no more,
My words come back from your door,
Unread and unheard.
I pick them up, can't look at their eyes,
Set them free, to fly away to the skies,
My eyes get blurred.
My messages, too, are welcome no more,
They are not eagerly awaited, as before,
With as much ardor.
There is no way that I can call them back,
As their voyage was on a one way track,
So, they'll wait in the harbor............
Of 'The Ocean of Love'!