My Angel

Rising to the sun, after a 
Long-sweet-sleep and dreams,
I found the one who inspired me 
Into writing-this- piece of script.

Dozing by the lake-side,
With the moonlight at its best
Sinking in the beauty
Of the heaven that dawned on earth.

Something brew-in-my-mind,--
constantly prompting me,
To draft myself to jury
Who all made it wonderful!

It was NOT the moon!
Nor the sky, studded with stars!
Glowing-twilight, emanating
from the fireplace tribals made.
Nor
the abstract of the heaven,
Which I doodled in the sky;
As the clouds evolve in shape
Masterminded by the breeze.
Nor
the rich fragrance from blooms;
Which wafted in the breeze;
Orchestrate the swing and sway;
Of lilies to its beat
Nor
The distant Cuckoo singing;
In this moonlight confused dawn;
Echoes past the hill to spring
One more loner to sing
Nor
The serpent train sped past, as though
Glow worms all in chains
Playing hide and seek, inside the
Forest wilderness

Lake mirror the mountains,
And the castles on its top,
Palatial marble domes,
Drenching silver in that night

The breeze sets off ripples
To reach the other shore
The dominoes of the ripples, choreo-
graph the castles show

Or my Damsel! Angel !
On whose cradled lap I lay
Did her beauty eclipse, then,
All of them around ??