|A corridor with countless steel gates,
In the shape of a lemniscate, nothing awaits.
Stuck in a loop of anguish, cursed fate.
Cleansed with a stout will to contemplate,
The limerent feeling the hearts’ desire,
Kissing tongues of the Greek fire.
The amber of a fluttering dress,
Meandering through a spring cress.
The shade of earth and mire,
Where, a breeze befalls to transpire,
Traveling abreast of that lady hair,
Lessening with ease ones’ despair.
Her kaleidoscope eyes hide a mystery,
That a man seeks upon eagerly.
The comforting touch of a small hand,
Dipped through the grains of sand.
If 't be true, the story could be written again,
As a remedy of a lasting pain.
There are no unlockable doors,
As I have no key to open yours.
Behind a shadow of an apathetic heart,
The Eros was torn apart.
Transcribing the darkest of times,
Hither ends the playful rhymes.