Neither kissed me nor has it been kissed
But my eyes have an aesthetic shower.
A shower yet to be changed in smiles
A shower yet to be changed in tears
A shower yet to be changed in passion
A shower yet to be grown in years!
Shall the showers be changed in rains?
Wait and be wet in its soft mildness,
Difficult for me to kiss the pink rose,
How can I change love in the wildness?
But I have no control on my eyes,
Watch you from behind green leaves
Let the sun shine, let the clouds rain,
I shall love you but like the thieves.
Unlike red hot passionate roses,
With a flying kiss of her admiring wings,
Like the bird that watches from the skies.
Listen to the song of praise that a bird sings.
(With thanks to Marie shine for an inspiring post)