Eyes that talk

On the roadside stands, or across the street,
Sometimes from a moving bus, so lovingly they meet,
Like old acquaintances who didn't recall a name,
Or seldom like a friend with golden fame.


It has words that utter without the lips moving,
And the skin sensing each other without touching.
It is like a thousand arrows piercing,
And a hundred false hopes reeking.
So pleasant is the effect, that it isn't unfair to call it hypnotism,
A world of vitality, no wrongly called 'realism'.


A basic sense of attraction, unknowingly turning into devotion,
From just a mere spectator to an admirer, so swift is the evolution.
Then thoughts emerge, and dreams cloud,
The heart thumps, big and loud.
A smile arches and teeth glisten,
To every little speck of noise, the ears listen.


Call it a blush, or a desire to show,
It's often the only weapon to blow.
Then their are his/her friends, that stare you in the face,
Like a concerned dad, showing grace,
Who cares for them, when the goal is defined?
It is your friend, go tell "her", if you don't mind.


Then slowly they raise their head, in a blush the eyes meet again,
A limited 2-second contact and the body feels spikes of torrents of rain.
That's the end of all joys and both depart,
Around the corner, or by the last turn, into the door or behind the cart,
But for one last glimpse they'll turn around,
And see each other, for this 2-second bond.


It's now this that is most cherishing, for it's a blend of both meeting and parting,
Both take the other in memories, and slowly walk away smiling.

On the roadside stands, or across the street,
Sometimes from a moving bus, so lovingly they meet.....