a bow and an arrow..
The bent bows are the eye brows,
the Piercing eyes are the arrows,
Those who are shot, still trapped,
Punctured are not their thoughts,
Flowered arrow does its works,
Both are in trance for a while,
and then they are as cloudy as the nerds,
They seem to understand the facts,
But the doubts erupt as volcanoes,
Hold their hands, they douse it,
Arguments arrive after each sentence,
Bonded minds make an agreement,
They are the birds, flying high and wide,
Paired up as one to leave the legacy,
Their nests are clean and then dirtied,
Not their love, it is as white and pure as,
the snow of Everest.
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- a butterfly story..
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- a child from the rain forest!
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