Love is a candle burning,
Burning and melting,
The candle with the wick.
Tear drops falling from
Silently and secretly,
Hidden from the world,
wiped with the palms
And the hands
And the eyelids red with,
The eyelashes smeared with
Rubbing and wiping,
Is this called love,
Is love suffering?
(Background note:
I too sobbed at some corner
After having viewed her,
My eyes too wet with tears.)
N.B. The background is too a part, but an unwanted addition to it. here the love is as a daughter.)