A series of messes, so dear and rich,
The wonders of love did drench me through,
Our paths were crossed by a river bewitched,
Slicing emotions that were set to brew.
Your silhouette, tall, dark, confused,
Managed to salvage before it could flee,
I pondered if your visage shaded a recluse,
A self that perhaps could merge with me.
The mirror reflected less than it protected,
A glimpse was ours, a gift in parts,
Locked behind doors, moments perfected,
In parts, we discovered the wholeness of hearts.
Step aside, observe how you dwell in my eye,
Form an image of love, subsuming 'you and I'.
|Picture Credits - Madhurjya Saikia|
P. S. - An attempted Sonnet written in a stupor. I have no idea what an 'iambic pentameter' means, so yes, judging me on that count is out of question.