An Autumn Stroll

The time of the golden-tinged sky,
And the flight of the fair-winged birds,
To capture in words, My awe I try,
The picture paints a thousand words!

Strewn across the path the autumn leaves,
Untrodden by feet the tender flowers,
A carpet for her feet the nature weaves,
A flowery rain, A flaky shower!

There was none, But my fair maid,
Who walked hand in hand with me,
Mere words for her would never have said,
What just a glimpse would be!

Pearls the lips, An unearthly hue,
Dreams of a thousand onlookers they slew,
Missed a beat when her delicate hand,
Was held in mine with a steadfast stand!

Mirrors the eyes, A pristine charm,
As around them flowers, Honey-bees swarm,
Intent gazes followed in vain,
And none but mine was wholly sane!

I know not if it were a dream of mine,
Or an illusion of my biased eye,
But never before a dame so fine,
Pampered my being with a prudent eye!

And then I walked on and on,
Across the beauteous autumn scene,
A hunger and a love forlorn,
As I kissed her in the becalming breeze!

Another eventful day begins.....

The nimblest hands,
They held the door ajar,
A night of unhindered passion,
An armistice of strongest emotions,
Nears an end,
A moist display,
An amorous weakness,
The sweaty sheets,
The night a familiar facade,
A tepid stream hits his face,
The egg,
A singeing frying pan,
The shades drawn,
The warmth of the incredulous Sun,
A pattern from a cast iron mould,
On the marble floor,
Multiplied by a weak tangent,
Another eventful day begins.

An Exercise in Futility

Set afoot to carve a niche,
Blisters and burns hardly deterred,
Thorns and beds of nails,
Pierced the foot but not his will,
A punctured heel and higher spirits,
But so soon left a tired soul,
Left him in darkness to reminisce,
No stone unturned, Another milestone,
Mossy, No doubt, But brought a cheer,
Victory of a special kind, Uncelebrated,
Like the death of a true martyr,
Buried under earth without a name,
Flickered a flame ever so fickle,
Elixir of hope, for the aching heart,
Nothing amiss, her heaving bosom,
Deep in her eyes, embedded dreams,
And lips, ever so full,
A mere mention, A million repercussions,
A gentle tap, And drenched in perspiration,
A little care, Was all the yearning,
The once stolid heart now irrevocably unstoic,
Meanders down his cheek, Tears and more tears,
Till it leaves a salty trail,
An exercise in complete futility,
For the time leaves a man sadder and wiser,
And he wonders what a subtle redefinition then,
Would have done to the constant murmur,
In his head, this persistent battle,
Him against Himself.