The Pules Of Sex Poem by Ravi Panamanna

At night
When she unveils her body,
A fragrance fills the air,
He is into the coolest springs.

In a few moments
He is back from the torrents.
The whispering wind is still alive,
The fragrance hasn't left the vales.

From these singing dales
He now thinks of those fire-flies!
They are born in moments
And soon perish- what do they taste?

Childhood? Youth?
Love? Sex?
Or the whispering cascades of life?

Be it anyway,
They too yearn the springs of life.
As the moments crop their wings,
They too crawl for air and scent.

This is an endless quest,
This is a timeless zest.
Every breath is a bounteous gift,
Every pulse reveals a lovable bliss.
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