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In the dance of love, we sometimes stumble,
Lost in the rhythm, we fail to humble.
Not every heart will mirror yours in kind,
And that's alright, for love's not always blind.
Despite the ache, the longing deep within,
We must accept what love may not let in.
For love is a choice, a delicate art,
Not a force to be wielded, nor a dart.
Yet, know your worth, for love shall find its way,
Like the sun after a stormy, darkened day.
Though it may seem that love is out of reach,
It's there, in waiting, for hearts that do teach.
So, hold your head high, let your spirit soar,
For love will come knocking at your door.
And when it does, you'll know you've earned your place,
In a bond that's pure, in a love's sweet embrace.
© प्रियंका
Lost in the rhythm, we fail to humble.
Not every heart will mirror yours in kind,
And that's alright, for love's not always blind.
Despite the ache, the longing deep within,
We must accept what love may not let in.
For love is a choice, a delicate art,
Not a force to be wielded, nor a dart.
Yet, know your worth, for love shall find its way,
Like the sun after a stormy, darkened day.
Though it may seem that love is out of reach,
It's there, in waiting, for hearts that do teach.
So, hold your head high, let your spirit soar,
For love will come knocking at your door.
And when it does, you'll know you've earned your place,
In a bond that's pure, in a love's sweet embrace.
© प्रियंका
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