The Language Of Love Poem by Arti Chopra

Older than the ruins of any monument,
is the language of love,
born from the time of Adam and Eve,
when they decended from the heavens above.

A look, a glance, a silken caress,
the raising of eyebrows coquettishly,
a touch, a peep, a fumbling grope,
the hugging and kissing feverishly.

the eyes are the windows,
of the soul it is said,
the eyes of the lover are a
language by itself...

they light up when he's near,
dimmed often by a tear,
when he's away and out of reach,
they convey the total devotion,
the passion and emotion,
of a love that is limitless and free.

the touch of a lover is
heaven itself, the kisses,
a meeting of souls,
the courting, a strange ritual,
a rehearsal of life's play,
as slowly the sweet plot unfolds.

And the two players,
in this courtship of love,
play their roles skillfully, sublime
the meetings, the farewells the glances, the longings,
all blessed by a force that is divine.

Ah, the language of love,
needs no book, no teacher,
no lessons learnt time and again,
the eyes are the alphabets,
that form all the words
and convey the happiness or the pain.