// The Window has stories.
Outside the window
there are stories,
the stories I have tried to tell you.
In the darkest night,
the streetlight stands alone,
and two shadows give it a company.
When the piano touches his lips,
the melodious tune
begins to float in the waves of wind.
Her red gown has more grace
indeed than a rose,
gracefully she moves &
matches the steps
with his soothing voice.
Seems like,
all around the twinkling stars,
it gives rise,
& seems like the moon
becomes stainless & more white.
The winter is a witness,
witness is the chilling night.
sharing the coffee is a delight,
elegance is to feel the warmth
of his leather jacket inside.
Winter becomes intimate,
with their cheerful freezing moments,
everywhere love falls like
smooth, soft snowflakes.
The night greets them,
celebrates the joyous moment
yet forget,
like the fragrance of blooming
night jasmine
after become intimate.
The story disappears
with the arrival of the brightness,
her elegant eyes abruptly become dull,
his piano lost the rhythm,
they have a secret
which I always try to determine.
The window has stories at the
night outside,
I often try to tell you,
the story is fiction,
yet has the truth,
the reality I rejoice to live
and you always refuse to believe.
_______________________
