He wasn’t Love before, he wasn’t even Friend
Not even Random Beautiful Stranger, he was just a passerby
A frequent presence, a familiar face, you never really paid attention to
But somehow it seems that fate and time have conspired
To shower you with random moments that brought you closer
Close enough for you to see that he had the kind of warmth and sweetness
He often hid from the rest of the world, but somehow not to you
And he talked to you as if he’d known you all his life
Half an hour into your very first conversation, all honest, no pretenses
Just him, all bare, as if he only needed his dreams and humor to clothe him.
You became the best of friends, distance was not a word that could be put between
The two of you, maybe physically but emotionally never
You shared a very sincere and loyal bond, that gave you genuine happiness
The kind that made you light up when you spoke of him,
and people often mistook it for the romantic sort of love
It could’ve been, but at the time it was just the caring kind of love.
People started calling him Love around you ‘cos they believed in time he will be,
Because the moments that tightly wrapped themselves around the two of you
Made up for a really good love story,
Neither one of you wanted to be a good story, he’d rather write one
He liked to write the kind of stories that couldn’t find an ending
You on the other hand had always had your heart set on short prose and verses
Love couldn’t write a decent poem even if he tried, but he didn’t have to
Love became poetry when he was with you.
Work in Progress 