The Perfectionist on his illusory journey
The beautiful dark blue sky
And his inner cry.
The Moon's far away of her crescent facecloth
And she strums the strings of the night Harp.
That particular serenade
He remebers in his younger days.
Moon murmurs;
' You're only a pen-friend
Scribbles lot of love letters
And this could be a Platonic love
But physically we never come a close.'
And he responds;
'We're two objects and you're belong to the sky
And I grab the Earth tightly
The distant between us immeasurable
And the proposed bridge
Only a sketch that drawn in our fragile hearts.
In the lazy morning I collect the dew drops
Which scattered along the green into my broken pitcher!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Added by Poetry Lover
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