I sit alone and write…
The song that sings my heart right…
One gives me another shot, another chance…
While the other puts me on a trance….
Drowns me in sleep marking the end of date…
And so, Sun is my hero and moon is the one I hate….
A chance I get, here and now….
To voice my love but I don’t know how…
I, searching for the words, stammer and stutter…
Unable to help the heart that flutters….
“Thou art more lovely and more temperate” seem to be the words that fit…
But oh god! Shakespeare long beat me to it…
Morning noon and night…
I sit alone and write…
The song that sings my heart right…
There is nothing so beautiful to compare her with…
Not in reality, not even in myth…
Looking at my fair lady….
My poetry seems banal and gaudy…
I search for the words from the great and the mighty…
Even theirs fall short in front of her beauty…
Yet, she waits, for me to come soon….
With those beautiful words that would make her swoon…
I try so hard, to pen it down…
A poem that would be her beauty’s crown…
Morning noon and night…
I sit alone and write…
The song that sings my heart right…
The wait is long, and the day is short…
But the prize will be won for all the battles fought…
A day will dawn…
When I will don…
Most beautiful words that could be strung…
Together with music and to be sung…
Till that great day…
I won’t ever sway…
Morning noon and night…
I sit alone and write…
The song that sings my heart right…
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