Cloth Of My Pocket

My pocket is empty,

Even for paltry payment.

My pocket is empty,

For paltry payment.

But when your fingers quest,

The heart pricks

The pocket to render,

You the money of love.

My heart is a hoard,

Of unending love,

Can lend my pocket,

Plethora of love,

If you fulfill

Its lofty wish.

Do you know, what is its wish?

Do you know, what is its wish?

It wishes to see you,

As cloth of my pocket

For lifelong,

And inhaling your aroma,

The heart will exude

Imperishable love.