O’er Whispers Of The Whistling Wood


“Mademoiselle! What’s in it, for me
This half, a mile, tread to, the moor
Better silent shore, by the, stormy sea
Where mermaids, bare their, l’amour!”

“Monsieur! May slow be, your coquetry
Mind the menses, of the, blushing blooms
Heed to, magpie’s, bleeding rhapsody
Lest the sin, of love, my heart consumes!”

Few furlongs, down the, daffodils’ field
Where lay, in wait, wilds, deep and dark
The virgin verve, of the, lass revealed
The sundry shades, of sin, so stark!

In the throes, of night, deflowered eve
Baptized in, the blood, of womanhood
Lay aftermath, of a, faith naïve
O’er Whispers Of The Whistling Wood!

© 2019 Vikas Chandra

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