For You, My Reader
Am I allowed to court you with many a lovely look,
Like Paris throwing an apple for you, my reader?
Sweet Fancy`s Fairy, sitting by this dear stanza- brook,
Am I allowed some pretty nothings for you, my reader?
The butterfly of happiness will fly from our tender book
To find a reason and a certitude, for you, my reader;
I know you know all poets starve for any merry look
I hold the rainbow and an arrow, for you, my reader;
You don`t remember when so fool this verse I took
To lie the hope in love with love, for you, my reader.
This wonder drop of the first light I still wear before fall:
It was at very first beginning as word, for you, my reader.
This poem of our age in hope alluring beauty may call
The noble thrill of good tomorrow for you, my reader;
Thy forehead resting on my shoulder, a picture by Chagall:
This lie becomes true favorable look, for you, my reader.
Is your smile the only prize a poet took? Then let be all;
But many wonders are still possible for you, my reader.
And here, YOUR NAME I put, while writing my Ghazal:
A nosegay of dreams, a tender touch for you, my reader.
|