O MY LOVE! THIS IS WHAT THOU ART TO ME.

O MY LOVE! THIS IS WHAT THOU ART TO ME.

O my Love! Thou art the silver lining of hope among the darkest clouds of despair,

That doth succour me past praise like a pulley to surpass the humps with cautious care,

That doth promise me beyond an iota of doubt the sunny days of comfort and mirth,

That doth assure me like a good yield after the timely rains of bliss without any dearth!

O my Love! Thou art the healing balm among the sorest lesions of topsy-turvies and sorrows,

That doth assuage the pinch of the grief throes and predict a quick arrival of the merry morrows,

That doth prognosticate, "Your painful days are over, and heydays are the matter of time,

My gentle touch and soothing care will surely recuperate you to sing life's sweetest rhyme!"

O my Love! Thou art the prettiest Rose in my life surrounded with the thorns of adversity,

That doth mitigate my pangs of sad morbidity as Full Moon removes the blithe light's scarcity,

That doth remove my sombre solitude as the reviving showers bring to the earth glee,

That doth end my sulky days of goom as in the presence of the sweetest smiles the sourest tears flee!

Copyright: Shankar D Mishra 07.01.2021