In Idle Hours

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In idle hours, I think of you: I think what she might be up to. What fancy must have caught her eye Or what moment would she be shy? I will miss every glimpse of you or when my love will spill its hue, I will be all the more benign and our heartbeats will align. The dewdrops on the berry leaf are the shooers of the grief you and I shared in silent hours like those wilting, fading flowers. The bark of apple tree too knows that how we munched on bliss in woes. Sheltered under that Banyan tree, I sought the glistening face of thee. I have now grown two moments' old and found this letter gild in gold. I have all. What bliss is amiss! All happy thoughts I reminisce come flooding back as I recall when I fell for you on that fall.

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