Tuesday, 27 August 2013


She is the goddess of the forest, might as well be Budhi Pallien
Beautiful to the core of Plato, stately tall, breasts like apples
Her hair glitters like the moonlight, hangs to her shoulders
Her skin like cardamom, she smells of dreams and sweet scents
The woman I sought; the goddess I worship, with her I’ve no sense.

I love her, and she loves me, I know; I might as well be Duranjaya
The decadence of her pleasure, the distraction of her beauty
Soars me to clouds of ecstasy, exploring limits of desire
I fall into the ebbing and flowing of the rhythm of her
Things are very different with her, every kiss is the beginning.

Time has moved, days turned eons daily; nights just go by
And my desire to sire with her burned, untouchable she may be
Created a version of her in such fashion, as passion flared
Life begun within the confines of her sanctuary, nurtured to live
And so did precious Nisha come to be, and I love this Mother of Nisha.

(For the Mother of Nisha
Always loved)

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