Whoever walks in the park amidst sumptuous scrumptiousness, succumbs to beautiful imaginings.
Poeticising in solitude
enchanted by her beauty.
The one he could never resist
nor wanted to.
The one who smiled through troubledness
the wind playing with her hair.
We are all not so sweet-tempered by nature or birth.
A breeze
A fragrance.
In the evening of his life
he thinks of her
and
how she eluded him
to be revered in poems
and
left in pieces.
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