Every morning I find her standing by
by Bhakta Raj Giri (Bhutan)
And try to touch her don’t know, why?
The more I try, more it strains
My tiring muscles and the brain.
The heart always ready to state
Makes me living corpse when at stake.
The emotion elevates to its peak
And finally makes me sick.
My fantasy to make her mine
But how absurd! Her dreams aren’t mine.
Unable to comprehend the life’s doctrine
Which merely turns into a Utopian Dream.