Me And My Stranger

A girl was there on the planet,

On which I and my pen persist,

She never talked to me nor beheld,

And yes her troupe I never did insist,

She was a letter not posted yet,

Left deep inside the satchel of a heavy boy,

Who was broken watching her with else,

A scene that his thoughts destroy and annoy,

She was a splendid bloom in a world so rude,

In the eyes of that heavy boy, she did dwell,

But she liked the pluckers much,

As they did smell and admire her well,

He never stirs her with his feels,

For he loved her as the biggest dramatist,

A girl was there on the planet,

On which I and my pen persist,

She never touched the choco so did I,

She never crept on the clay so did I,

For all that was her or seems to belong,

Was mine and with that, I did fly,

Once she lived before my eyes then,

Life was as beautiful as the thoughts of Jesus,

And now I with my pen draw her every day,

Her thoughts, her face, her voice so delicious,

From being a solitary beholder to being a stranger boy,

All eyes still, her still smiling face, consist,

A girl was there on the planet,

On which I and my pen persist.