To an angel By R.Krishnamurthy

Why do I gaze at thee
You have spellbound me 
Like a Roman statue
Lucky is thy beau

I am fond of thy visage 
I close my eyes to thy cleavage 
Roses bloom in your cheeks 
Honey oozes from your lips

I can look at your curls with liberty 
To gaze at thy curves is not my priority 
Thy voice must be sweet,a melody
When I lie down ill,it will be my remedy

I like thy passion for photography 
I am floored by thy obsession with poetry 
I pray to God for your wellbeing 
I would like to be a guest at thy wedding