That sharp nose of yours, studded by a glittering star of a nose stud, resting on that place of the nose that curves inwards. The femininity it brings out in you makes me go weak in the knees. Your eyes, deep dark black in a sea of white, surrounded by night like kohl and dancing a fine dance, emanating expressions that makes my soul stir, it creates a feeling that starts from my heart and ripples all over, is this moksha?
Those sweet soft ear lobes partly covered by your hair, I wonder how it would feel to just feel them, maybe a small nibble and I would see heaven. The hair let loose on your shoulders, like a the pitch dark night cascade flowing down. The strand that plays around on your brow, sensually teasing and swaying with the wind, like as if everything else about you was not captivating enough. The exposed neck of yours, as it moves with your voice, distracts me, and makes me go dry in my throat. The creamy wheat skin of yours as it begins to swell, sends shivers down my spine.
Those slender long arms, and those playful slender fingers. Those nails, even they exude your consummate femininity. As they go about their tasks, my eyes journey with them, yearning for more, to soak in those swaying movements of your hands, you are doing mudras without even doing the dance of the Gods. If only I could hold those hands for a while, I would keep that memory for eternity, locked away in a far recess of my memory as the day I held a fairies hand in mine.
Your hip, playing hide and seek behind the beautiful saree you have donned for this day; this lucky day of mine to see the Goddess herself descend to Earth for my eyes to behold. The creamy hips that curves inwards and then swells outwards - you are the definition of women. My mind is tormented by the naughty winds alternate waning and blowing as it reveals and then hides.My heart is on that pallu of your saree my Goddess.
Your feet, accentuated by the dark henna designs and the sparkling anklets. Jingling as you walk, I would not let it touch the hard floor if were the owner of this wonderful creation. Brahma must have been at his artistic best when he started creating you my Goddess, for you are the perfect creation any man would yearn for.
As you leave the temple pond back into your palanquin to leave for your palace, I strain to get one last look at those eyes, the queen of my heart, to fall into those pools of mystery one last time and drown in it for eternity. And then as if the dream is shattered I return to my shanty to tend to the remaining shoes that needs mending. The work would without a doubt seem a trifle with your visual splendour so freshly seared into my mind....
Those sweet soft ear lobes partly covered by your hair, I wonder how it would feel to just feel them, maybe a small nibble and I would see heaven. The hair let loose on your shoulders, like a the pitch dark night cascade flowing down. The strand that plays around on your brow, sensually teasing and swaying with the wind, like as if everything else about you was not captivating enough. The exposed neck of yours, as it moves with your voice, distracts me, and makes me go dry in my throat. The creamy wheat skin of yours as it begins to swell, sends shivers down my spine.
Those slender long arms, and those playful slender fingers. Those nails, even they exude your consummate femininity. As they go about their tasks, my eyes journey with them, yearning for more, to soak in those swaying movements of your hands, you are doing mudras without even doing the dance of the Gods. If only I could hold those hands for a while, I would keep that memory for eternity, locked away in a far recess of my memory as the day I held a fairies hand in mine.
Your hip, playing hide and seek behind the beautiful saree you have donned for this day; this lucky day of mine to see the Goddess herself descend to Earth for my eyes to behold. The creamy hips that curves inwards and then swells outwards - you are the definition of women. My mind is tormented by the naughty winds alternate waning and blowing as it reveals and then hides.My heart is on that pallu of your saree my Goddess.
Your feet, accentuated by the dark henna designs and the sparkling anklets. Jingling as you walk, I would not let it touch the hard floor if were the owner of this wonderful creation. Brahma must have been at his artistic best when he started creating you my Goddess, for you are the perfect creation any man would yearn for.
As you leave the temple pond back into your palanquin to leave for your palace, I strain to get one last look at those eyes, the queen of my heart, to fall into those pools of mystery one last time and drown in it for eternity. And then as if the dream is shattered I return to my shanty to tend to the remaining shoes that needs mending. The work would without a doubt seem a trifle with your visual splendour so freshly seared into my mind....
Wow..thats flattering and serenading..enjoyed
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