Missing screenplays...

You forget yourself immersing in
The jubilations and delights, of life,
Which you have attained now by providence;
Fulfilling moments in the plethora of happiness
Resplendent with endearing music, thrilling
And surging, with passion and libido.
Time and seasons has drowned, in a far away
Fountain spring, and an ache, an agony
In the heart, after seeing and sensing
The changes, it has brought into you.

We could not reach and meet each other
Together, to have a life of our own.
Even after many rebirths through seasons.
Life is splendid and sublime where the minds
Are in unison, in every matter in our existence.
Then we long for turning into jewels of dew drops,
And trickle on the petals of blossoms.
We desire to share the warmth of our breasts,
On the bosom of the dew, in silence.
In our aspirations and illusions,
And through our phantasmagoria, we are actingA play,
where the screen play is missing,
And we are allowed to carry on impromptu.