Hallelujah! A boulevard when appears nice and wide;
Who is he? When there’s a cul-de-sac; doors closing by the side

What makes her feel so dark even when light is just away for an inch;
What makes her fear so much, even when on the way there’s a pinch?

The chortle has gone, the smile has gone, sparkle is about to leave; slow sloth;
It is a melodrama of fate, but when will this tailor weave; glow cloth.

But isn’t she made for the dark, when weaving is the earning she depends;
When you are about to blind till from your hand the cloth’s grip bends.

How is the dream of shooting arrows possible when there are no eyes?
And no one to tell the melodrama and fortune, “you are a bunkum lie.”

A negligee was stitched on a day warm and nice;
The resilient gait was on its way; only when interrupted by the mice.

She fell down and there laid on the ground a bow and an arrow;
Did not say “who is he?” even when it was cul-de-sac; trim and narrow.

It was a delight as if that inch was no more a distance;
There was no dark and all set for the embossing of dreams to kiss funs.
She made her eyes sparkle again near the waterfalls;
And looking at the sun; “there should be no more strolls near the gutter-balls.

The bow stretched targeted at the nearby tree;
But amongst the cheering crowds few years later; who were waiting for hugs for free.

Her eyes were on the target; zones of target; shot a zone.
But this time the crowds were there to cheer; not alone.

Every little thing brings happiness, even a pinch;
The darkness is not permanent the light is away only for an inch.

There are always ways unfolding different tracks at every stage of life. We get trapped ultimately to unlock with all possible efforts.