Your Gift. Poem by Subrata Ray

Your gift,
Seems to me heart's shift
And that is the glory of love
I would drink,
I would think of you,
While sipping the cup,
Thank you, -love your love.

The rose from your first spring bed,
Remains unblemished in my shade,
The tidal will brooks over my glade.

So many showering scents and paper flowers,
Come and go hour by hour,
So many Yes, No and Very good,
In clumsy occupation of lively hood,
Rise and drop as pops after pops,
But the charms from your maidenly fragrance,
Keeps me anchored in the first Love's trance!