Blue is the sky, and not my eye,
why am I called the blue eyed then?
there is something more than an answer to this,
remember I told you something about this,
if you could forget about it so easily,
you can remember nothing then,
I dont draw lines of intelligence,
you mark you journey from where I end,
the beauty is not about the finishing line,
the beauty is not reaching the base either,
the journey along and in between,
beautifies the life even more,
when I ask you, who am I to you?
your glare at me with ardent yearning for me,
gives me an idea of being the most meaningful one,
the glance by chance of my eyes may seem teary,
I am sure its not because of you, its because of me being for you!
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