Slow Chaser

I read the fold of your forehead Each line and every word And the space between them I keenly observe The colour of the sight Of your squint eye Side by side I measure the length of each step Taken under the silent stride I listen the sound of your breath Something still I miss I am thousand miles away To snap the picture Capture the meaning How can I? I am neither a scholar nor a sage merely I happen to be a lover When I go to catch you You run away But the sage tells me you are angry because not I chase But why I chase you very slowly,