It creeps deep inside,
unknown, unheard
as steadily it rules
the soul, mind and self.
It travels unrest
and soon it occupies,
all dreams, desires
untill silently it rests.
It is not the pain,
nor does it bring smile.
It feels like the breeze,
that flirted a flickering light.
It frissons the mind,
slowly as it melts in a tuneful rhyme,
teasing with the wits,
as it draw all senses blind.
Is it called love?
Or is yet to be defined
As it grows old,
A fresh brisk of youth is all it leaves behind.