what am I, but a spectator
to his magic, to his smile
He weaves his spell, and i watch enthralled
his silver aura, his words divine

I am not a part of his play
but he is all I can see
He decorates his stage and recites his lines
around me, all for me

How he dances
Oh i watch and i see
With my little heart; my poor heart
He dances his way gloriously

When i see my heart
My eyes don’t lie
He is the ocean, my heart is the fish
Outside him, i shall only wither and die

If my eyes could see so much
what blindness had betrothed him
How could he not see
My heart was a submissive to his every wish and whim!

I think, in all the colour and drama
In all the laugh and cry
he forgot and i never realized;
he had never looked into my eyes!

I started as a spectator
Only to end with the same
when his spell broke, so did my heart
it was good thing, that day it rained.