My Heart me tempts, at staring of her eyes,
as if but I, was like a Feast to them;
When she, at me, does glare, my Heart echoes,
"Glory to Thee" and I but start to Blush;
Can I but not utter a word to her,
be it in mind or of the blushing soul;
Know I do not, whether to take a step,
in front or go afraid and head at back;
At last but I up make my mind, and soul,
I Feast upon here eyes and she on mine.
Copyright © Veer Rathod | Year Posted 2020
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