In my pickled piled life,
You infiltrated with your muscle on
Like a candy to a bleating child,
A liberty to a slave,
You embraced me with spring.

My heart with lopsided wings,
Took a slumber at your heaven,
There are no new mountains and seas,
To queer for, you glare me as a giver,
She is aware of the cold winds,
That you bring to about this twitch,
But still longs for your breezy touch.

I will never be a choice in your list,
Seasonal shoppings list is not my kind,
Trespassers can never be acquaintances though,
Every time I decide to keep me away,
Box my days with no extra time for you foe,
Your flattering operas magnets my rings.

She knows for sure,
You, the moisture in the air,
That disappear after the clutch,
Off humidity’s hands never trusted,
The passing cloud of this Fish.