I have stopped counting the stars,
And dream of making a home of love,
For the two of us in Mars,
Sleep of mine is taking a nap telling me to shove.
I know that you don’t care,
Whether I breathe my last or exist,
But you will certainly repent for losing a heart so rare,
As the leaves badly miss the touch of the mist.
You can bring sleep in my world with only a little smile,
Not a big one since it may turn me into Kumbhakarna for a while.