or sunlight falling on the ground, in the forest,
after kissing each and every leaf of hundred of trees.
Yes, it's beautiful.
I see beautiful things and I think of you.
Children dancing in the rain on the terrace,
with raindrops romancing each and every flower,
roses, hibiscus and the gentle petals of begonia,
drenched in the love of long lost monsoon.
Yes, it's beautiful.
I see beautiful things and I think of you.
Crowded cafes, libraries and monuments,
places where lovers seek momentary elopement,
hiding behind people of people of people,
seeking solace in the entwining of fingers.
Yes, it's beautiful.
I see beautiful things and I think of you.
Between pens and papers and words,
and people and stories and songs, and
colors and sadness and joys and names,
and heartbreaks,
creating a world which seems complete.
Yes, it's beautiful.
I see beautiful things and I think of you.
The constant chatter of two friends,
the smile of two lovers,
the fusion of blue and green,
thought of the caterpillars evolving,
some warm blankets on a cold morning,
few more minutes of sleep,
the smell of coffee and cookies coming from a cafe,
letters from soldiers to their families,
the laughter of a baby,
the taste of raisin,
the beauty of roses and smell of jasmine,
neat bookshelves and chaotic souls,
first touch of your lover on your skin,
the color pink, canopies, and the music before I was born,
creepers, lilac skies and poetry.
Yes, it's beautiful,
and when I come close to them, I think of you.
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