Her Pitchers Of Love

How blessed was, that kiss of bliss
O’er orbs, that spilled, the soul of life
Those sanctums, I did reminisce
Until, I saw them, on my wife!

Betwixt the two, and me, and that tot
And enigmas of, fleeting avatars
Sway brazenly, care’s, shame’s mascot
Yet, bear with flair, womanhood’s scars!

And then, she bared them, pompously
To the angelic lips, of my lusting child
I dare not say, how I feel, when I see
O! My daughter’s bosom, growing wild!

Crestfallen but, hold fast, to her heart
My mother’s breasts, two worlds above
How suckling bliss, is a woman’s art
Brimming man’s abyss, Her Pitchers Of Love!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra

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