Like an artist who dreamt one day
Of nature's miraculous creations to say
And as he dipped his fingers in paint virgin and pure
Carved the secret ecstasy of his dream inherent in it's lure
And he thus opened his eyes when the painting was done
His love was brilliant as nascent rays of innocent morning sun...
Wish I were the artist who'll be
The one whose eyes are closed to see
A smile, those lips, eyes which look at me
Shall I trace her lips, embrace her cheek
Which end is this love that I so humbly seek
An embrace, a hug, a kiss shall I keep
And closing my eyes, now I fall in love softly and deep...
How do you take care of her, when you know your touch could disrupt the softness of her skin, the purity of her existence. Yet a powerful desire makes every muscle in your body force you intensely towards enveloping her inside your warmth, in the entirety of her completeness.
A look at you, and he shall feel that way. A gentle touch in the softness of those lips, ecstasy in those eyes, a smile which he shall carve, hair which flow down as waves on endless skies, and as your scent conquers an existence which was his once upon a time, he'd hold your hand and pull you close, gently embracing the soft skin by your neck, a little too close, the muscles of his arms strong in unison around your waist and you'd close your eyes in magical ecstasy as he would now flow through you, and be but one...
With darkness around, under the majestic moon we stand. An intimacy so intense, we bathe in the softness of it's moonlight, and as I look at you, I see that beautiful curve by your face shine, a curve that travels down by your neck to those beautiful slim fingers entwined between mine. In the silent darkness of death, this mesmerizing love does stand glowing alive...
It's something to love her catastrophically - as a man hopelessly loves the wind as he drowns deep into the ocean. An inevitable oblivion of simple pleasure, a day to return to dust, when sun shall swallow all beauty of this earth, this rhyme and it's love shall stay alive forever and even more...
Watch the garden flowers as you walk by a sunset's sun to die. You might see me with my sketchbook, smiling at you, as I hold you and to the skies shall we fly...
Of nature's miraculous creations to say
And as he dipped his fingers in paint virgin and pure
Carved the secret ecstasy of his dream inherent in it's lure
And he thus opened his eyes when the painting was done
His love was brilliant as nascent rays of innocent morning sun...
Wish I were the artist who'll be
The one whose eyes are closed to see
A smile, those lips, eyes which look at me
Shall I trace her lips, embrace her cheek
Which end is this love that I so humbly seek
An embrace, a hug, a kiss shall I keep
And closing my eyes, now I fall in love softly and deep...
How do you take care of her, when you know your touch could disrupt the softness of her skin, the purity of her existence. Yet a powerful desire makes every muscle in your body force you intensely towards enveloping her inside your warmth, in the entirety of her completeness.
A look at you, and he shall feel that way. A gentle touch in the softness of those lips, ecstasy in those eyes, a smile which he shall carve, hair which flow down as waves on endless skies, and as your scent conquers an existence which was his once upon a time, he'd hold your hand and pull you close, gently embracing the soft skin by your neck, a little too close, the muscles of his arms strong in unison around your waist and you'd close your eyes in magical ecstasy as he would now flow through you, and be but one...
With darkness around, under the majestic moon we stand. An intimacy so intense, we bathe in the softness of it's moonlight, and as I look at you, I see that beautiful curve by your face shine, a curve that travels down by your neck to those beautiful slim fingers entwined between mine. In the silent darkness of death, this mesmerizing love does stand glowing alive...
It's something to love her catastrophically - as a man hopelessly loves the wind as he drowns deep into the ocean. An inevitable oblivion of simple pleasure, a day to return to dust, when sun shall swallow all beauty of this earth, this rhyme and it's love shall stay alive forever and even more...
Watch the garden flowers as you walk by a sunset's sun to die. You might see me with my sketchbook, smiling at you, as I hold you and to the skies shall we fly...
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