Towards the end of a hot sweaty May,
when the heavenly old pedant had his say;
I was wandering through the market place,
A dehydrated mind and a perspiring face.
And lo! Thrashing came the summer tempest;
A shade in the chaos now became 'The Quest'.
Once sheltered beneath a tea stall roof,
I let loose, my twin spies, though foolproof.
And there they caught her shying, under a young banyan;
A lassie with green eyes and skin so fair and young.
A wet pajama adhered on to her long youthful limbs;
And her drenched top gave my imagination, a glimpse.
A curvy waist befitting an abdomen concave;
Hidden behind hands, tightly clutched, was a treasure to crave.
A small battalion of her luxuriant black, did protect her rosy cheek;
Surely, now, mine eyes couldn't risk being meek.
Wine, such a beauty is, to the 'aesthetically engrossing'.
The twin drunkards were soon captives for trespassing.
"Tame your vagabonds", returned an irate glance;
Virtually slapped, I awoke from my trance.
Body is but the projection of thoughts within; mimed I ;
For a guileless conscience does spell 'beauty' to an aesthetic eye.
Virginity, for the sane, isn't a physical attribute.
T'is for those chaste thoughts, a bodily tribute.
With hands tightly clutched; Dress periodically adjusted;
Visage, in a confluence of chastely guilt and wrath, bathed.
Such a tribute you do offer now, O Virgin ;
For your guilt is only a mimicry of the guileless within.
As my hymns went on, the earth had ceased to bathe ;
And the old crook was out again with his May-day bane.
With a placid smile, she did vacate the banyan shade;
Thanking the tempest, to her, a goodbye I bade.
----Sauru
when the heavenly old pedant had his say;
I was wandering through the market place,
A dehydrated mind and a perspiring face.
And lo! Thrashing came the summer tempest;
A shade in the chaos now became 'The Quest'.
Once sheltered beneath a tea stall roof,
I let loose, my twin spies, though foolproof.
And there they caught her shying, under a young banyan;
A lassie with green eyes and skin so fair and young.
A wet pajama adhered on to her long youthful limbs;
And her drenched top gave my imagination, a glimpse.
A curvy waist befitting an abdomen concave;
Hidden behind hands, tightly clutched, was a treasure to crave.
A small battalion of her luxuriant black, did protect her rosy cheek;
Surely, now, mine eyes couldn't risk being meek.
Wine, such a beauty is, to the 'aesthetically engrossing'.
The twin drunkards were soon captives for trespassing.
"Tame your vagabonds", returned an irate glance;
Virtually slapped, I awoke from my trance.
Body is but the projection of thoughts within; mimed I ;
For a guileless conscience does spell 'beauty' to an aesthetic eye.
Virginity, for the sane, isn't a physical attribute.
T'is for those chaste thoughts, a bodily tribute.
With hands tightly clutched; Dress periodically adjusted;
Visage, in a confluence of chastely guilt and wrath, bathed.
Such a tribute you do offer now, O Virgin ;
For your guilt is only a mimicry of the guileless within.
As my hymns went on, the earth had ceased to bathe ;
And the old crook was out again with his May-day bane.
With a placid smile, she did vacate the banyan shade;
Thanking the tempest, to her, a goodbye I bade.
----Sauru
