It is morning, it is the beginning of the day with hope and joy; I am in a train running through paddy and sugar-cane fields, silent yielding of the nature that does make consent with love to reside charming side by side, permitting cultivators’ delight, gently melt in yellow density, syllables of the love upright, that put everything in order of power that gives something in travelers’ breathing to see love in nature’s pride, that gives promise, in vigor for dwelling inside creation.
On the way, I do like to meet my beloved one, who is coming here first time after a long journey, and she likes to meet me, and I do not want to lose her holding of love. It is like to touch the rainbow, it is might and assembled score in the floating of life, like a boat, and I want to travel in that boat around which the birds of the sea do sing, satellite shelter, a real safety, that my mind finds living moments with portrait of love.
I put a message on the signaling bonds, and in the SMS I say, life is wonderful as long as you are in mind, and I do not want my mind to be vacant land, that may burry all treasures of love, beneath the hope and the nature, and I do not want to have sold moments those are only fragments of discontinuity, and these items are broken showcase, that I do not want to be with me, dear. And I think you do not break your promises, dear.
Promises for love are not orphan, promises have own dept and sacrifices.