In my mind I paint your face with daubs of sandalwood and space and the colours that I use have no names. In my mind I write a verse without no meter, rhyme or words and all the letters that I use have no shape. My thoughts fall like raindrops and blossom into flowers that I string upon a smile for you. In my mind I sing of me a fuller, freer, joyous me for which the dictionary has no names. My thoughts fall like leaves and dance into the breeze and the tree that remains is you. For I am you and you are me eternally.
Nice one, Bhaskar...timeless beauty, woven sweetly into verse. Not cluttered nor dark...an enjoyable read.
