Moments of solitude, A tinge of blue and strain,
The festive Winter night was lethargic and Cold as ever
Never expected warmth, No, Not until I met you again
Over the labyrinth of Networks, cozily, holding my shiver.
What dawned, seemed to be a breezy, transcribed raillery
transcending into an abstract, of our synonymous musings.
On my naked canvas, it was anything but just Not tomfoolery,
We scrawled, of realms, of films, of likings and of feelings.
With my arid, thirsty Quill, and your awe-inspiring, moist ink
I breath, to dream, to scribble and to sustain through my lyrical notions
And Whilst you are my Muse, my August stars would never shrink
As you’d forge them to Aurum, with your Alchemy and your potions.
I embraced two novel Cronies, as the midnight kissed the clock
It was the beginning of a New Year, of another virgin epoch.