Meet me

man

Meet me in an old book store, where the scent of pages harks back to the time when people used to live what they read.
Meet me on a rough grassy path in the park, where people used to walk to breathe, where there is a scent of wilderness to keep.
Meet me on the footsteps of a rainbow dream, where the colours are from your laughter, and where you find angels in the depths of your sleep.
Meet me on a cobblestoned street, where once mighty armies marched to a beat, where bugles sounded even in retreat.
Meet me on the strains of a guitar, where the rhythm lives inside you even as it hits you from afar.
Meet me in the rhythm of a song, when they play majestic violins as they sweep over the sea, where the only ones dancing are you & me.
Meet me in a poem, where the words are woven in a symphony, of timeless desire, of poignant pain and sighs of delight.
Meet me on a piece of paper, where timeless ink has left its mark, where the music is written but the song has yet to start.

re blogged from a very dear friend’s blog http://wilderverses.blogspot.in/
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