Poems are children too, sprung of fitful passion,
Here are ours, six birthed in less than a season,
Many were spawned, but these found the mark,
Manifesting your symmetry, cupping its charm,
Chiseled like your curves but deep like your tan,
Metrical like your lust - wild and nailed in place,
Dancing like lioness’ mane to lilt of your gait.
Two on your hips, two more on your shoulders,
One entwined around neck, one walking besides,
Weaned on your milk and nurtured by our love,
They outlive us, with some even bringing fame,
Lisping in tongues that we had never ever heard,
They grow from prattle of rhyme to deft of craft,
Hymning ever of you, even across sands of time.
Hymning ever of you, even across sands of time.
(2012)
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