If not, caress of, a fleeting sin
Nor a psalm, which soothes, a forlorn soul
Who lingers on …, on a, throbbing skin
The sweet deceit, of a hyperbole!
With a whiff, of love, and a tinge, of pain
And the, rhythm of a, widow’s lullaby
O’er an, aging tomb, life’s legerdemain
Or Lord’s missive – ‘Never Say Die’!
She whispered, rather her, nonchalance
“I am, no haunting, soul of fall
Nor bliss, of spring, lost in sun-dance
But a, virgin lass, with a parasol!
The purest spree, of an, ‘astray’ kite
The rhapsody, of a, lovelorn heart
Lost frenzy, of deflowered, night
Who hummed away, requiem of Mozart!
I am no waif, of a, passing squall
But the, lasting lust, for a love purebred
In oblivion’s throes, life’s fond recall”
Passing my homestead, What The Zephyr Said!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra