Nothing Makes Me Happier - Poem by Mark Heathcote
If my heart were a gilded flower
Would I give it to the first bee?
To arrive embowered in light
I see. Yes, the world is often dour
Oh, I want to of drink love—drown in ghee
That buttermilk she made metabolite.
Nothing makes me happier or drowsier
Than watching her a woman in her saree
Moth like beneath the moonlight.
Remonstrate and dance, encounter
Her lover, in his trembling apology
Hearts distance, still in satellite.
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