Come, fall in love, with September
When spills hunger, cornucopia, of corn
Let’s laze, o’er moor’s, restless slumber
As our bleeding hearts, heal on, hawthorn!

May the zephyr, bare, our seminal truth
Whilst we roll, in the embers, of furor
In between, two men, there is, more ruth
Than in, Adam-Eve’s, love-metaphor!

Let’s cherish, to death, the ripening grain
Of love, that has now, come of age
No passion, could be, such profane
That gives in, to, social outrage!

Call me, by your name, I call you, by mine
We’re ingrained, beyond, each other’s skin
We founded, our God, in Satan’s shrine
In The Smoldering Farms, Of, Sweetening Sin!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra