Morn From Night Poem by K.S.Subramanian Subramanian

The day I tied her the knot
I was serene; no tall dreams,
netting castles on purple streams,
Just tug on solid bed the ruddy boat.

We were to step on a new voyage,
the wind feathery on the sails;
In its bosom lay the travails
of a mate growing into her age.
Her passion was like the scree
stormy now, a while later empty.

She would snuggle into my chest,
dark eyes dancing in joy; yet
the morn had none of night's grace
the boat tied to turgid waves.