I wish you were a sound clung to my throat,
A pale yellow paint on the falling autumn leaves,
A feathered ink pen to write a poem,
A pair of worn out comfortable shoes.
I wish you were a smile on the picture of Dorian Gray,
A sleep in frost’s stopping by the woods,
A pair of separated birds in tagore’s poem,
A pair of eyes in solitary reaper.
I wish you were the voice that made love everyday
A fading mystical face for eternity to stay.