The wind is caressed by her hair,
While the waters are threatened by her bosom,
A beauty all-in-all, but no man to ensnare.
Her eyes speak with vigour and passion,
Yet they maintain their graceful rythm and meter,
Her face is soft, the expression engulfs you-
Am I and admirer? No-
Her rounded breasts are embedded with tales of deep sorrow and happiness,
Her quixotic touch binds you, your imagination, your words,
Let it flow, touch her by her hair,
Feel her by her bosom.
An experience of time lies in her voluptous waist-
All that consummation requires is your imagination.
Penetrate into her, deep,
Because, depth - she is inspired by,
Not rhyme nor verbal extravagance,
Just depth, depth of what you write into her.
In your act of penetration, you are exalted-
An explosion of emotions at the brink of your heart's desire,
An equal amount of pain and joy,
An equal amount of pleasure and suffering.
Whether or not you pleasure in that pain or suffer in that joy-
Is only a consequence of what you wrote into her.
Querulous youth decide against her from cowardice,
She walks this earth duty-bound, to every man seeking her asylum.
Dolashree K. Mysoor
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