My Dear…


Her voice wake me up, let me shake the drool

Her riwaj make the heart feel at the core purified.

Times I have mistakes, making self a fool

She stands there with a smile, always, on my side.

The song of monsoon rain drenched soil I listen

When her fair skin touches mine every each time.

Her words sounds like the spring breath; lessen–

I found my upsets. Her silence makes me feel like moon

Spreading the silver light, but, not like sun–

Who bright up the day, showing direction.

My words found them lost, always on none, 

When her heart sore; words turn susurration.

She has this habit letting things unfinished.

The story of our love, thus, yearning finished.


The verse had been written in Shakesperian or English Sonnet format.

National Poetry Writing Month Day #10: Portrait Poem


13 thoughts on “My Dear…”

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