Boy In The Ballads

Delving into the obsolete,

I espied a book

With aroma of dust;

Alluringly entitled as life.

Folios that followed

By myriad mingled ballads,

Whispered into my ears;

A tale of a boy.

Dreamer as a juvenile,

With imaginations engulfed

In hollows of his mind.

His visions never fade

Amidst mob of mediocrity.

His heart is pristine,

As pure as driven snow;

For he’s an epitome

Of immense love and care.

His responsibilities?

More than dependability,

It’s lauding promise

Like in a wedding ring.

Concealed beneath decency,

Is a wise man

With enchanting mind;

That’s savvy and intuitive.

He’s an ideal being,

An epic legend,

Disguised as human.

For I know a mystery,

The boy in the ballads-

None other than ‘ My Man’.