Little Love

To love is to weave art,

The art which was taught by you,

The cold limbs when succumbed to unsuccessful nights,

Took me by your side was only you.

From breathtaking surprises

To fight for my rights

You never figured plight of excuses

But made me soar higher

In the glimpse of my sight.

The drinks on the table

You served with the dimples, amiable.

The crunch of the waffles, 

Shovelling happily

That gym workout in crumbles.

An asset, a blessing

As you steal every chalice by just 

A light caressing 

A Santa for me, as I see you disguised 

Waiting to sleep at the end of the day sufficed.