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At a stony brook
At first whoever looked
portrayed with different taste,
But no one could figure
out the hidden trace,
Though it seemed hard
to get the actual face,
It never missed to shine in
every eyes as it's newly gazed,
It gave its care and warmth
to all even in sleepy state,
Once became common
whoever loved started to hate,
Days runned all started
to forget it's grace,
It went deep inside mud as all
stabbed after using its ware,
One day someone who was
lost came across the way,
With the zero vision
started to dig the past ray,
Somewhere he got the
path connected to his day,
Started to Embrace each seconds
as he felt it like soulful Fay,
The stabbed stone finally
got caught in his hands,
He took home with unreadable
beautiful feelings over his lips,
The stone was none other
it was his own heart,
which he left in past without
which he became like an spoiled art.
© cuckoo
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