Wet shine...a morn...

the rains must have left
Wet
The cheeks of her
For the morn
After night long
Drizzle
Looks so wet
As if a shine
On Her...
Wet shine kind...
And me thinks
Those red red roses
On table mine,
Where me left
Ink pot blue
Must have bloomed
As if getting
The touche of dew
Wet shine true...
And as me rides
The road
Like a reflect
Of Her,
Shines more gold drenched
Apollo like emerges
Like an inner surge
Of wavy songy breezy trance ,

And the pur
Of the machine
As if evokes
The Face of Her,
Her Eyes,
As if She there waves
The call to traverse
Wide and far,
A journey to a boulevard perhaps
Where time small run dreamy laps...
And she where sits with all music sapped...