For The Gold Of Her Heart Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

The Love I love lacks the eyes of a doe,
A gaggle of girls might boast eyes better—
Bodily art, bewitching face to go,
Yet, her modest assets still me fetter.
The earth in my garden, a shade of grey,
May have more red than the red of her lips;
Late dusk still has more lustre one to sway
Than of lingering smile she ever keeps;
Her visage has warmth of autumn's late eve,
I see wilted rose in her wrinkled cheeks,
The bouquet of her bosom that much reeks
Would make even brave-hearts her room to leave,
And yet, one truth works as a Cupid's dart,
I love her thanks to the gold of her heart.
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Sonnets | 16.11.08 |