The Pakistani Spectator

Though you have allocated moments, to park and bolt their charm, within the confined elegance of your deliberation

But my access to feel you and your reflections, have always been denied

Though your crude imagination have reserved place, as your own

But my desperate desire, has no place as passion to attain myself, as your own

My words and soul could not breach your arrogant attention,

Hence my pain could not violate your conceited domain, as denomination

Why this act of intolerance have been made my destiny

Why desire for you, been made my pain

Why assortment as thought, over rule your award of love

Why my desire for you, have been made as flirt

My lady, snug me, to reshuffle my memoir as your own

Award me a moment though it may be a brut

Accept my feel as passion as slogan of veil for obsession

Grant me the honor so to revolve around your harbor as fascination

Though your tendency to curb passion have infatuating desire as instinct

 Nevertheless! My desire to love have instinct to betray, hatred

Though your mood have attitude of repulsing love

 But my feel have affinity to drift mood with love

Though your enjoyment evolves around hating passion

 But my feel survives around your bating notion