Still she looks like a teen aged virgin,
With flowers in smiles and pearls in tears!
Although Milton was blind but he felt her beauty,
In romantic era of Queen Elizabeth the First,
Shakespeare passed many lovely nights with her,
Beautiful clay still pregnant with the poet’s outburst!
I confess I read her private diary,
Found many great names like Shelley and Keats,
Coleridge, Byron and Wordsworth,
Many smelled the aroma of her sweats.
These are the poets and writers as well,
Who give her a bath of fire every after cent,
Give her a new and colorful skirt,
Perfumed with the magic of exciting scent!
I am a petty lover, who is ignored by her,
In the diary I could not find my brownish name,
I wait for her in the moonlit nights,
Alas! Despite my love I lost the game!

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