I’m Not Done Yet

I’m not done yet,Trying, to catch the slippery flower,

Which, for its very nature, is wet.

Nullifies my power. 
I’m not done yet,

Admiring, the echo of your shimmering voice,

Filled with hope and a little regret.

As if I have a choice.
I’m not done yet, 

Waking, to the sound of your text,

With grammatical errors and tone set,

Of frivolous taunts, as if you know what’s next.
I’m not done yet,

Breathing, through the locks of your hair,

Entangled enough, and frustrated you get,

When a rogue fringe disobeys your prayer.
I’m not done yet,

Laughing, at your not-so-funny jokes,

As they get lamer by the day, I bet,

While you stroke your head when I tell you so.
I’m not done yet,

Staring, into your diluted pupils,

And when the slightest of problems make you fret,

I’ll be there to calm your chills.
I’m not done yet,

Rhyming, these words in a string.

An equivocal rhythm, if you let,

Will make me dance and sing. 
I’m not done yet,

Even if it seems otherwise. 
– Ayvid


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