I could usually call it a day like other,
But certainly it is a day like no other.
With the winds gusting and slow drizzling,
In your presence, I keep fiddling.
Awestruck by your persona and the untimely petrichor,
I wish to admire you more and more.
Your wicked grins and uncanny being,
Feel so magnetic with every word you sing.
Like a masterpiece, you sit there with poise,
Unaware of the worshipper who has made the choice.
Is it the season, for all to blame?
Or heart is the reason behind the game.
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