The magical extra-dimensional pocket of his
shirt was sweating profusely,
while accommodating as many shooting stars as it could.
Every ivory-gray star had a story engraved on its chest.
Diffusing in golden stardust
were his thoughts, wishes and vision
of painting her life with champagne pink love.
“Young man, why don’t you ever wish for yourself? “
He silent lips just smiled to the stars.
The snow dancing on the caramel brown skin of southern hills was caught red handed,
eavesdropping.
“There is a scented woven pouch
dug deep to the left of his heart.
It carries tales and love,
laughter and tears and lies,
memories and emotions and, songs.”

His third eyes blinks,
his lips curl up to laugh,
as his shadow unites with hers.
His radiant eyes are completely lost into hers,
her hands on his chest dance with glee,
scheming with his heart
on how to chase the Moon in the middle of the night.
Their laughter echoes in gloomy and lonesome valley and
time flies by!

“Old man, You are still the same. I have never seen you wish for yourself in past 57 years.
Is she so precious to you? “
The fouth satirical air can’t help and speaks in ancient Roman,
“She is the air he breathes! “
Her head on his wrinkled natural shoulder,
has countless memories of their sweet love.
His fingers dancing on her skin,
decide to open the neatly woven pouch adorned with golden lace and
sequins.
One by one,
the memories of golden era run past them in circles,
songs written on November nights, celebrate
their old golden love,
and their laughter thus echoes in the lonesome valley and time flies!

Written for NaPoWriMo 2022 Day 10. Today’s (optional) prompt is pretty simple – a love poem!