Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Monday, July 6, 2015

The Tease

A tiny drop, resting for a while, on your bare shoulder
And then travelling down your soft and supple arm
Leaving behind a moist trail
And a growing rivulet of unsaid desires.
Oh! The burning ache of the pleasure
Allowed to that aqueous pearl.
And as if I wasn't ablaze already,
Another bead followed the lead
Melting teasingly over the undraped cutis.
One more and yet another, until they poured torrentially
Enveloping you in their bedewed embrace.
The sun relenting,
Cedeing to the enticing invitation of
The first showers of monsoon.

2 comments:

  1. The seduction of rain--even the sun must relent. Nicely done.

    ReplyDelete

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.