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The Moon shoots us angrily each night outing
her arrows come furiously in our direction
but only lands on us as shadow’s fingers
When I go out with my cutie in the forests
seeking for adventure foreign to hotel rooms
to hear whispers of nature in wilderness
and listen to  music sang by throats of forests
the Moon looks at us with envy of a rival
shooting indiscriminately with all jealousy
We have decided to confuse the envious moon
the more she shoots at us in wilderness
the wilder our intimacy grows and expands
she does not know that by her actions
she lights up the quiet world for romance
deeply buried underneath our panting souls
that the law of nature needs her wild actions
By attacking essence of our adventurous being
that lie helplessly on  grass of imaginations
she gives us one possibility- romance in style
our lonely souls shout silently to  her in response;
 “Shoot, jealous moon shoot; shoot us so softly.
The more you shoot with rage the more eventful,
and perfumed our forest adventure becomes .”

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