Courtsey
S
Sathya Narayana
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How long shall I impress?
With this expressive silence
I am not of the age to hide
Anything, anymore
Of this biting void
Nor you are a new-born
To treat my dumb dialect
As an unintelligible jargon
My love is still alive in spite of
This agonizing stand off
Like a glowing cinder
Burning in my heart’s kiln
Douse it with unkindly grouse
Or kindle it with a billet-doux
I am simply at your mercy
Waiting keen for your haughty courtesy
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