The Storyteller

In her solar system,
her son is the sun.
Through spring and autumn,
she hears the tales he spun.

Her son would marvel,
observing nature's bounty.
With many a pebble and gravel
he plays in their little county.

The tales of a flying tiger
and a singing giraffe,
the friends of an old beggar
make him laugh.

The mother showers her love
through hugs and kisses.
We'll never know how
certain things God misses.

The boy knows not boredom
though he has not some features.
Sans word, (his) mom weaves wisdom,
knowing the grammar of gestures.

What a Paradox!

A heart jumps in joy
when it finds the right girl.
Hope multiplies alarmingly;
dreams increase exponentially;
smiles keep blossoming continuously.

Rarely does a soul find
another soul with great similarities.
Isn't it natural for it
to feel elated then?

The soul pursued
talks about hope, optimism and chasing dreams.

The soul pursuing
thinks on the same line.

"Wow! What a match!"
thinks the innocent soul,
dwelling in dreams, hopes and positivities.
Less intense are the other soul's emotions.

And when the pursuing soul
utters words of love
to the pursued soul,
the latter shows no similar signs.

Rapidly flash
the earlier advice of hope
and mockingly laugh
the true state of things.

Ah ha!
What a paradox!