Love's Mansion Poem by Prafulla Kumar Panda

They said: love is a dirty game.
'rosy lips and dimple cheeks' are only objects of attraction
before the game nears a pretty close
although way is fair, being in youthful vigour,
you do lose;
like an August-day, however, its morning sunny and sound,
but loses lustre under the shade of a sudden cloud

until his eyes roll at a fit of hearts call
across her blue eyes and silky hair
he throws out philosophy like puffs of air
at the call of love, and
with a taste of his youthful vigour
he grows bold in temper
and lays bricks upon bricks
and builds a tall mansion in the air

at Time's hands powerful is the life's storm
which turns dune to every mansion
where hope writhes like smoke from a cigarette butt
and his passion once a charcoal fire wilts early like
a summer rose.
©Prafulla Kr. Panda, India.
All rights reserved.