Like a desert storm, She burst into your life Sprinkling the barren landscape of your existence With drops of unmediated purity Like Van Gogh's brush, the belle danced around you Splashing wild, violent, unrestrained colors
Of dreams, joy, bliss.
Child-like strokes of pastel love Unleashed on to the canvas of The misanthrope's soul The absconding savant was startled
At this tryst with fate.
Was the joy too much to bear? Or was the sight of beauty too scary? That mind of hers, that intuition That sharpness of her words
Did they sting you?
Those piercing eyes, at their Inquisitive best, mischief galore
Did you fear them?
She, the iconoclast and you Mr. Enigma, was it hard To keep up with the beats The rhythm, the madness
Of this conflagration of love?
Did it all seem like a charlatan's spell?
The alchemy was not working anymore Her ambrosial presence could not Contain your acrimonious soul You tapped on Hell's door, All broke loose
