And
I believe
In love
She is an old soul
A magnificent heart.
The magical poetry
And the classic art.
Cascade of emotions
Deeply in veins.
Fervour is too pure for her
And, not a chasing game.

No men deserves her
When she keep dancing on her beats.
Black background apart
Covered herself in white sheaths.
With music, she leans
With lyrics, she blends.
She prefers to be antique
In the world full of trends.
The nature healed her
Bloomed her out of pain.
Sprinkled love around her
Like the droplets of rain.
She is cold but warmth
Like the spring in march.
Too wise in her poetry
Everlasting in young hearts.

Where the world is turning dark
And there is no hope left.
The youth has lost its charm
It’s all meddle and mess.
Yes, I strongly believe
Then, there is still she
Pavementing her own path
Fighting the demons,
Embracing the scars.


In the era of neoteric
She is senile, sensual and smart.
An old medievel soul
A magnificent heart.
The magical poetry
And the classic art….

– Noor