I searched thee poem of that melodious gramophone play...
that mold evening was quite righteous on my back memory
the white-colored diamond set I brought you from Sri Lanka
was matching the ethnic white saree of yours.
Holding a parish glass of crystal clear vodka
when I tried to shook with the slow Arabian music beats
I could slowly be feeling our young age beauties.
Mesmerizing the past era of my rolling life
i somehow managed to move towards your not too far dining hall
to whisper the arising thoughts of my heart.
Its the memory only
which stopped with me stabbing the back of the seasonal wind..
my Love.
