A melancholy of a familiar tale, Stomping the castle of the dream, Behold the face of every girl, The eve hood born with a curse alike… The wedding bells knock the door, And here goes the knitting of the dream, The fuss and roar of a little mind, The tint of shades to the ring of a glass, Pick and drop for the choice is vast, Says the mind of an edgy girl, For the dreams weaved is to grow, And for once will be the moment… Tone of lilac of a long loved tulip, And the quarts of string melt melody into air, A step await a fresh phase, As the carpet lead her to the stage… A drop of tear in the place of curve, And the hush-hush not to be heard, The lilacs crushed on the floor, And the empty seats on the dome, The silence before the consent, And the pause after the ‘I do’, A flash evoking the staleness of soul, Leaves the bride with the broken castle of her dreams...