I have heard of lofty praises for love
Love as eternity, love as nurturer of dreams
Ask me and I would tell you what love is,
Love is like the sting of a honey bee
All powerful for a moment, pain jabbing your heart
The next moment, eternity gets replaced by fraility.
Ask a honey bee, why does it end it's life by leaving it's sting while it could have other means.
You would find a helpless sigh escape your lips
For aren't you exactly like a honey bee?
The moment you see your love tumbling, you leave your sting
A sting enough to rip your love apart
A sting enough to jab your heart
A sting, a sting enough to kill you ounce by ounce
One moment you die, the other moment you live
And sing humming songs of despair
You drink despair, you breathe despair
Hail! Honey bee love.
The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...
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