The Core Fuels The Crust

A nubile nymph or a beauty care is absent. Dusky skin, blunt chin, masculine nose And the very queering lips are well present. Yet to my heart her every part is piquant. In her is there no aesthetic or romantic sense. Reticence, reserved ness and timidity, With coyness to the core, are there in evidence. Yet she is so seductive to my every sense. She acknowledges but refuses to requite. Passion smoulders, which her blush betrays. An earthen pot with water in, that the dampness Betrays. She is my ‘Cape of Good Hope’. A hard nut and an elusive fish is the stuff. A taciturn woman, with no semblance of proof. To admit or to exit is her bewilderment. Nevertheless, towards her I go vehement. I fell in love with her for her core and soul, That led me to love her crust and profile. I relish and cherish her for her inner fire. As she eludes in fear I pursue in vigour. Answered or not, one prays with hope. Ushered or not I love her with heat. Maybe she is less to others but to me much. So much is there in her that my heart beats fast. Her every part is a tonic to me because That every part derives juice from beneath. A flame takes intensity from its contents. It is her contents that make her amorous. “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever” To think of her in bounty is my fervour. 11.09.2000, Paralakhemundi