One Summer Tempest

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