Chemistry wasn't all about acids and bases.At laboratory, she learnt it through his gaze.Illuminating the sparks,Between test tubes.their age was a balanced chemical equation!
She is the art to the canvasString to the violinWords to the letters not postedMess colour of the paletteRainbow to the shine and rainFire flame to the candleAnd love to the unlovedShe is surreal.
This world alone is not enough.I need someone to make my latté old and classy over the time;Just as the wine does as it ages.I marvellously pout, exhaling air on the brim, to make my coffee lukewarm.Stealing glimpse of those eyes.Carefully those fingers wipe the cream cornering on my lips.The clock ticks, with those sips.Residues of coffee beans lie on the bed of the cup, as I reach to the Epilogue uninterrupted.
Believe me, this was true last night,Tho' it is false to-day.-- A.M.F. Robinson.A fair dream to my chamber flew:Such a crowd of folk that stirred,Jested, fluttered; only you,You alone of all that band,Calm and silent, spake no word.Only once you neared my place,And your hand one moment's spaceSought the fingers of my hand;Your eyes flashed to mine; I knewAll was well between us two.On from dream to dream I past,But the first sweet vision castMystic radiance o'er the last.
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,And laid them away in a box of gold;Where long will cling the lips of the moth,I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;I hide no hate; I am not even wrothWho found earth’s breath so keen and cold;I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,And laid them away in a box of gold.