Lost love of a versifier...

I loved her with all my heart,
The muse of my script.
What she did?
She laughed; she scorned and made fun of me.
Without even noticing how it hurts,
She just went on disquieting me.

A devoted versifying soul,
Whose hub of spirit fountain her name.
Crying loud to draw her pity,
(surely) that’s all in vain.
She had no notice of me,
Neither did she know that I adored,
Or may be, with her usual air,
She just pretended…

How can this be true?
That she doesn’t know.
I conceived her granted gaze,
Or was it just a show?
Some blurred images haunt my mind...
Of the days which passed by,
Of the days when she was with me.
When she was right beside,
When my pen made it high,
Lively presence of a heavenly being.

Oh! What were those days,
With you and your terms.
With your fragrance all around,
Days were so glinting,
Grief had no space to fill.
As no pleasure last for long,
So did our love had gone,
So did our merry ended,
And we met never.
But I am still waiting,
Waiting for my muse;
Days will come for sure,
When words will again sprout.