Hangover of Love
In the bosom of chaste moonlit night
Of summer, I seek-
A loaf of breeze- unruffled and bright.
Hung are my soaked thoughts
In the drapes of your orchard,
For, a gale my sense rearing
That from distant horizon is coming.
In the falling star, I feel you
In the bustling sea your love
The floating clouds of your unsteadiness
In midnight cricket’s sob.
The long stretched river of my thoughts
In the neap tidal ocean of despair swayed
In all I see your bareness
Amid the chaste feelings you ever had
In the nudity of contemplative trance,
I feel you
In an ace photographer’s gaze.
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