Monday, December 21, 2009
The scent of Mogra flowers were serenading
Through the air, diffusing into my senses.
The same adoring fragrance that emanated through
The showers of my day dreams, in your countenance.
Silvery lines cast shadows in the earth;
The Night Queens smiled in welcome.
Among the bluish pleats in the sarong of the moonlight,
I saw the furling of your long robe.
The silky waves of your dress moved away from my life
Like seared petals of withered days.
The beams of the moonlight turned into violin
Strings, and while the breeze caressed them
Produced melodious musical overtures.
I heard the timbre of your compliant voice
From the song sung by the silent night.
The tinkle of your golden anklet faded
Like wilted tender leaves from my dreams.