On the prowl, she lay, in her, squirming skin
With longing lips, and smoldering, eyes
Her sighs, sum up, to an age, of sin
All baptized, in blood, of magpies!

How fits snugly, a form, so sly
Like an, iron fist, in a, velvet glove
An enigma, amidst, truth and lie
She brings, to life, paradox of love!

Which faith, dons she, o’er instincts, raw
How poised, is she, between grace, outrage
There’s fulfillment, in, every flaw
And solace, in the, heart of rage!

When she, spreads out, mystique, of charms
No more, than a beast, nor less, than a dame
Two realms dissolve, in the snare, of her arms
A Cougar, In The Cave, Of Shame!

© 2019 Vikas Chandra