My Love, Rukmoni

Your skin glows like the apple, blossoms red as the rose in the purest hope of spring. My yearning heart rises to your violin voice and leaps like a dear at the whisper of your name, Rukmoni The evening ascends in on a great peacock’s wing. I am calmed by your grace that I carry into the twilight of honey beams and hold next to my lips. I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of sorrow As my gaze falls on my wrist, it reminds me of your promise In the hushed, I listen for the last high noise of the spring. My heated mind leaps to my head gear. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret dream so that we may carry as one, heart to heart, in search of the glorious blue and spiritual fruit of love.