Its not that i didn't notice,
But briefly,
The way he concentrated,
When he worked.
And how good he was,
At what he did.
The way he became grim,
But still handsome,
His face taut,
At some sombre thought.
The way he showered,
Affection on his nearones.
The way his face flushed,
With emotion and softness.
The way he charmed,
The lovely ladies around,
And winked and grinned
At the harmless prank he played.
The way he got engrossed
In the game he watched.
And how handsome he appeared
just being himself.
Until,
I wanted to possess,
And i wanted to win
And i wanted to see,
Only my reflection
In his deep, dark eyes.
But beleive me,
Its been like,
Holding the wind in my hand.
And now i know,
Beauty of the breeze
Is to be felt
And cannot be held.
maitreyee joshi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wind-in-my-hand/
