No harp, would stir, as sweet a chime
As the curls, kindled by, lovelorn souls
Drunken with, the bliss, of sin sublime
In the heart, of loch, love’s caravan rolls!
Profound epic, of that, timeless tryst
When Zeus sinned, to Leda’s, heart’s content
Two souls dissolve, in the placid mist
Till the mirth, of fleeting dream, is spent!
How they, paint in air, love-silhouette
Enduring emblems, of compassion
Monogamy’s ode, their each quartet
No faith as true, as their passion!
How blessed, is this, fest of the fall
On a forlorn soul, myriad lovers flock
May outlast world, this fond recall
The Swans Mating, At The Loch!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra