There in the silver moon-light, full of sweet smelling memories,
I stood, with my eyes upward, on the mango tree.
I could see her creamy ball-gown from behind the moon, peeping.
And I could feel her seething anger all the way to me, reaching.
I could say from the rain-drops falling from the clear skies
That hot tears, born in her broken heart, had reached her eyes.
Somehow if I could climb up to the moon and behind,
I knew I would have the ultimate prize- she would be forever mine.
But I would have to do it with my hands clutching ice-cream and flowers
For which she would pay me back with money that was already ours.
Climbing down, with her singing on my back, would take hours.
But who ever said that such a love could be for the weak and cowards!