A Garden Of My Fair Lady Poem by Akhtar Jawad

The pains you give to me,
the misbehaves I face everyday,
the maltreatment I tolerate,
might have wet my eyes for sometime!
But I know the time apparently cruel,
is making a pavement for me,
in the thorny bushes of life,
and I am heading to the gates of a garden,
where there is my fair lady,
in a silky white dressing,
with a bouquet of white scented flowers,
in her smooth and touching soft palm,
and,
with a kind and inviting smile on her pink lips.
Sweetheart!
All lines of love have been erased from my palm,
heat of pains I got in my life,
have made my palm so much heated and soft,
that when you give your left palm in my right palm,
you will not find it difficult to imprint a new love line,
and when I shall take the bouquet in my left palm,
my both palms will be frozen,
the new love line will be an immortal line.
Who says I shall die?
I shall kiss my fair lady,
she will sit beneath a tall tree,
with its roots deep in the earth,
and its apex touching the skies,
with her feet in the water of an eternal canal,
I shall put my head on her thighs,
with the bouquet of new flowers of love,
in my left hand,
and my right arm enveloping her for ever.
She will comb my dusty hairs with her artistic fingers,
and I shall sleep for ever in a new garden,
and you say it will be my grave!
No I can't believe,
it will be a garden of my fair lady!