As the trees lost in silent darkness in the night
As mountains gathering wisdom in their meditating stance
As flesh talk to the weapon that cuts it
As the arrow whispers to the bow while leaving from it
As the rivers converse with the banks while running away
I was trying to tell you how do I love you
But now let me forget it
For when it comes to love
Poet is a rag picker
Perhaps I will look into your eyes and that will tell you better.
george mathew
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poet-and-lover/
