What Makes A Man Dance

I am not a dancer as such I would never be a dancer as such. but if you let me hold- kinky curve of your waist or beastly bend in your hips- I would surely become a dancer; perhaps a better dancer than the dancing rain or a happy river. while keeping my eyes on your eyes, and my lips on your lips; I can sing song of a flower. while holding the softness of your curve and feeling the sweetness of your river I can dance for ever. it's not the dance that I dance it's the song of your hips that I dance. what else is more inspiring than watching your happy hips sway, bend and trance? there must be a thousand rivers in your mountainous hips; there must be a million volcanos in your eternally burning waist; else- why would they smile so much? blush so much? explode so much? if you let me hold your soft buttery fruits; or if you let me kiss them, smell them, bite them surely, surely- I can live for ever. only to hold those mountains I can live for ever, I can die for ever. only to take a dip in those rivers all that I have, I can surrender. life is cruel, life is cruel anyway. but that is- only until my eyes have not seen your hips sway. once they see your curve- my life is full; my life is always happy, content and cheerful. and once my fingers have a chance to caress them and play with them- I am immortal, I am eternal. salvation is not too far for those who have seen your hips smile ascension is not difficult for those who have seen your waist sings. allow me, allow me my love- to hold those- heavenly fruits and earthly rivers; allow me to draw them to my heart for this life and after. © Arun Maji