People are nostalgic it’s true ever

Who craves not to dwell in bliss

Though to the end, there was never

A success, loves desire the only kiss

Of their dear mate and thus perceive

It, for the rest of their life, though

Successful or were in vain, their brains receive

Ponderings entailing love making and through

Such a nostalgia; rest of life- they dwell

It’s all but love what on earth is

A polymath doesn’t even display well

As and when someone makes his liking freeze

Even the self-esteemed leave possessions of ego

For their dear love, and it’s woo- transforms

Everyone- even a terrorist of long long ego

To a person so abase, and in various forms

It does spread to all, and people do cherish

Every moment of love & woo in their lifetime

And take it- a spring that makes then flourish

 All men are but, like the water of lime

As lime alone gives none but when dissolved

In the water, which is love, can heat itself

As with love, the self-caliber is evolved

Out of you, even if you conceit- yourself

The feeblest creature. It is not

The flummery of love, but things what it

Can deed in one’s lifetime, even the hot

Sun can be felt, as the coolest ever fit.