A verse I laid,

A verse I laid
There my maid,
A verse I laid
Up and spread,
For You to catch its original hue,
A verse I laid
Up there my maid
For You to make it relaid,
Knowing Your fingers of music
Can only embellish a betterment of it,
A verse I laid up there straight
To float it where You bind me as Fate,

A verse of flowers known and unknown,
I have surely laid it to be borne,
To the hill tops, cliffs, cities small and big,
To mountains that shine with cloudy layers of dreams,
A verse I laid for You , my poems,
Holding my offerings of times, like carpe florem,
A verse I laid for You, my maid,
Knowing only You can possibly make it remade,
To become something as Eternal
As the reddened orangy burning Sun,
An afternoon as good as a poetic flow,
An afternoon that in eyes with fancy glow,

A verse I laid
Up there my maid,
For You to hold it to make it something,
For You to cause it to find its own rhythm,
A fancy, a dream, a melodious ornament,
A delightful afternoon that could only spread-
The feel of warmth of tender Love,
The feel of serenity of a sleeping dove,
Peaceful, tranquil, blessed as Paradise,
A verse I laid up there for Your Heavenly Eyes,
That carry no dearth of  knowing anything,
That could only provide proper meaning,
To every thing that a mortal like me could make,
To every dream that me can a plunge take.

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