Enslaved Thoughts Poem by Gaurav Mittal

To her keeps on turning,
My every single thought.
These thoughts, wild and yearning,
In one web have been caught.

A web by spiders spun,
Who slaves are to her eyes;
Her strands of hair undone;
Her mesmerizing sighs.

Slaves to that waist slender,
And that delicate arm;
Those lips soft and tender;
That small, exquisite palm.

In such a web, thoughts my,
Enslaved are forever.
But elated they lie,
Such joy had they never.