My soul reaching behind the mountains while rolling a leaf of a book,
The dark streak pattern chaining the happy pines in a dreamy look.
It was me or my Romantics rising to the wild lands above,
Herbal breeze , vibrant sun and the shades of green shedding love,
Open spaces between the woods and shadows were as appealing and silent as dove.
Tossing my heart in the fleecy clouds as light as fur of a dwelling tree
The deep red flower bending the branches and setting my emerging feelings free,
The hill-dropped snow was brushing my expressive face like pearls in a sea.
The Tibetan healing sounds from the verge of himalayas were prized and hypnotic,
The carvings of antique pieces and wooden instruments had touch of exotic,
The slopping huts covered with incense of rose making me entirely psychotic.
It was again not only the spell bound landscape evoking my visual sense,
But the associations placed with the Playmate days and Library of my present tense.