Her face unfolds the freshness of a lea,
Inviting eyes as tempt to explore more,
Her bosom brings warmth, should life turns wintry,
An all-weather port she beckons ashore.
Each acre of her fine anatomy,
Belittled oft, maligned as mortal flesh
That would one day be one with dusty ash,
Face of Maya if not as enemy…
Lifts my spirit adding to my heart beat,
I would much rather in unlit dark live
In search of her solace if illusive;
She keeps my spiritual lamp ever lit.
If life is to be lived full until death,
Belief in her I deem is my life breath.
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Sonnets | 01.04.14 |
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