M Minakshi Devi
Skipping from the sight of the burning moon,
He curved the cresent as he witnessed me unwind and turn.
Flich every single smile you tossed my way,
Seal my hair on my back as we made it through the melody.
Solo hymn wrote by elite poets toured in our ball room.
Lilies smeared on the fences would now echo and bloom.
We who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wings.
Wishpering soft and quivering our names
And gulp shots of passion in our frame.
The fit in the clasp of our hands made my toes curl.
Darla, I don't want to miss how you hurl.
Your gaze seems to gift my heart with pearl,
As though, I am the highlight of your pride parade.
Dreaming about how surely you would win me over
With your gentle loop.
Surely, seeking refugee in this hurricane hitting our roof.