The Roses

I wake up and wash my eyes,

and notice the twinkling of the pinks,

who made such color, who made such bliss.

I soak my face and again look at it,

what dark tinge there

who filled it there, who poised it there.

the first inkling that I am heating inside

the first sign that I am shivering outside

the first wrinkle, how it came up here?

the roses are inside us, are on us.

for so, we kiss our loves,

the yearn quenches through them.

the soft and the gentle brushes,

hard sometimes, and the tangling of emotions

who brings to the core.

yes, they are lips,

the roses flung on us,

the mysterious dark beauties.

Love

I love you so much
its just that some oceans are between,
and eluded has the touch been .

I think of you a lot,
you in my arms,
with your eyes gently down,
and your hair lying around,
your scent becomes mine.

That you're beautiful,
and that your eyes speak
from behind the lashes,
and that the heart pounds,
beneath the feel,
just waxes even more, my zeal.

You speak love,
and you spread warmth,
you make my soul,
feel your charm.

and when the wet hair are uncombed,
and you are hurrying around,
when the rain is there,
drenching with you around
is in fact purging abound.

and I can go on....and on