Comfort
A
Anil Kumar Panda
0
Altın Yaprak
Trapped in the whirlwind of your passion
I take refuge in the cell of your womb
Intermittent rain upon hillock of my pride
Keep you soaked all through earthly hour
I keep my eyes closed in the shed of hair
That you spread upon my face as you
Keep moving up and down, backward
And forward playing masterly strokes
You have the claws of a tigress when in
The sensuous calm of the night you lift
Yourself to catch the moon as slowly
You bend backward and fall like a vine
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