G.O wasn’t a big fan of poetry. Lyrics for music pieces were something else. He differentiated them with a thick line he scarcely crossed. He serenaded his ladies with his warm voice. He didn’t take their hands, kneel down and shout poems. Nor did he whisper sweet nothings to their ears. He just couldn’t bear not voicing his love and puff his chest as a bird. On the other hand, he did have a secret. When inspiration left him in a puddle of embarrassment, he quoted Poe – “Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.” And beauty takes time.