As days float in time
his eyes become more moist
on a tanned moon at even tide
his whispers grow into songs:
A northern hill loves
the south wind
in an aromatic swish of embrace
which does not end from dawn to
dawn, midday to
midnight.
When he sees me full
in light
his songs again become whispers
he fondles me all over from earth
placing me in a sky of beauty,
I smile in a moment of ecstatic bliss.
I don't have words to speak
nor hands and legs to act
but he goes on fisting space
slicing time with a mad kiss:
What shall I do with him and his
shadow play of timeless love?
Sabita Sahu
Sabita Sahu
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