I stand high right up to the sky,
My arms symbolize strength, that’s a lie!
Apparently happy and bold, virtual tranquility
Expressed in all ways, succeeding with great felicity!
Yes I’m bald without my beloved leaves, bosom frozen with cold blood,
My body sore with cynical glares, can you hear the silent flood?
I wear a stern countenance, an attitude voluptuously donned,
I swear they are ironical, not just worn for love to be loaned
There lies insecurities very deep inside, with unalloyed alacrity for love,
Waiting for a glance, a look, a touch, akin a single Dove
Superficiality of carnal pleasures, pure love undefined,
Loneliness so corrosive, company so confined
Profound my contemplation, with persistent confusion,
I ask lyrically, Life is Precious, an illusion?
I now wait for the season, when ripest is the Time,
My long lost love, my leaves, bringing to me warmth which is sublime!
When I shall be loved for what I am, not for what I should pose to be,
Not to sing a beautiful song a la melody, or to dress like a Princess for the world to see
But for my leaves, the apple of my eyes, subtly laid on my arms,
Just spelling loneliness, would raise doubts and alarms
History is fait accompli, future is not, please let them know they are invaluable,
Vivid memories starve me further, cannot their stay be perpetual?
My arms symbolize strength, that’s a lie!
Apparently happy and bold, virtual tranquility
Expressed in all ways, succeeding with great felicity!
Yes I’m bald without my beloved leaves, bosom frozen with cold blood,
My body sore with cynical glares, can you hear the silent flood?
I wear a stern countenance, an attitude voluptuously donned,
I swear they are ironical, not just worn for love to be loaned
There lies insecurities very deep inside, with unalloyed alacrity for love,
Waiting for a glance, a look, a touch, akin a single Dove
Superficiality of carnal pleasures, pure love undefined,
Loneliness so corrosive, company so confined
Profound my contemplation, with persistent confusion,
I ask lyrically, Life is Precious, an illusion?
I now wait for the season, when ripest is the Time,
My long lost love, my leaves, bringing to me warmth which is sublime!
When I shall be loved for what I am, not for what I should pose to be,
Not to sing a beautiful song a la melody, or to dress like a Princess for the world to see
But for my leaves, the apple of my eyes, subtly laid on my arms,
Just spelling loneliness, would raise doubts and alarms
History is fait accompli, future is not, please let them know they are invaluable,
Vivid memories starve me further, cannot their stay be perpetual?
