By JH Sayyar
A whispered spell beneath the moon's gaze,
With petals pressed and tied in silver thread,
She cast her wish into the starry haze,
And spoke the name that echoed in her head.
The wind grew still, the night began to hum,
As magic danced on lips with breath so warm,
Her heartbeat timed to some enchanted drum,
The air alive with passion's ancient form
He came—not knowing why his path veered,
Drawn by a pull no logic could explain,
His soul, it seemed, had her presence feared,
Yet now it sought her through joy and pain.
Though spells may fade, true love will remain
A charm not bound by thread, but heart flame.
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