Old, forgotten tales of love
Woven by lowered eyes
Few of which you understand
Glances and gentle sighs.Not destined to receive,
The love you hanker for,
That act demands largesse
And pain worth dying for.Those lips may never touch
And fingers never weave,
Nights not turn to evenings
And hearts never heave.

But nothing less will matter
And nothing less will live
Drown you must to sail again
Drown and still believe.

Find you may in a person,
In a voice, a place, a song
Find you may in a mirror,
With you, walking along.

Reema Prasanna is a Search Engine Marketing expert, Xoogler, baking expert and blogger. More about her here http://about.me/reema.prasanna