Mist . . . everywhere.
Beyond your attentively plaited strands,
and above, where the branches dangle,
tenderly swaying
the dormant buds in hold.
Radiant splendor of yours
pierce through drapes of vapor
making us spot
each other only.
Hand in hand, sodden with passion,
we stroll.
Obscure lamp posts
take a break
standing upright, flanking
the snaky asphalt ahead.
Blur of shrubbery around
transits us to a nameless paradise;
where we speak
in the dialect of cheery birds,
where trampled leaves
escort us with their recite.
Leisurely, a tranquil world opens its eye,
shining soft in your placid smile.
