THE GUST OF LOVE

Eyeing at the stormy horizon,

Painting the soul with beauty forgotten,

Anticipating the gust of love,

Touched by the purity like dove.

Through the hurricane of thoughts,

Want to steal some bits of past,

Pouring them on the sky overcast,

Tieing the love with trusting knots.

In this season of the tempest romance,

Holding her hands once in million of chance,

Feeling the thumping of heart through coy,

Drenched in the sprinkles of joy.

Love is in the air nearby,

Embracing a hug waiting for her reply,

Glaring mortified at the stormy sky,

Praying not to be the last goodbye.