You Are A Poem

Pardon me, for my innocent expressions

To make a poem from your existence 

You had to be a poem, after being 

The centre of my all emotions.

How your footsteps on the dewed grass

Are transformed into poem?

No one can know without being me because 

Dropping sun rays on your face 

Are naturally wanting to be a poem 

So how can I stop them in case 

The very natural smile on your lips 

Silent voice of your eyes 

Your open and close works 

If they are not a poem, then what else?

Your vision, your words, and your silence

The truth is that your presence is a poem itself 

I am only the coordinator 

In this whole poetic arrangement 

The truth is that you are a poem yourself 

I am the language and grammar.