To Her Baby Ox Poem by Subrata Ray

Baby, as you please,
May use my three bliss,
That need stirred hang,

‘Baby’, said her lips,
‘For you I must keep,
With your mariner,
The voyage of my ship! ’

‘But sure, -qualify yourself,
As a radioactive -ox,
And besides, -to carry my box.

Baby, -go on go on,
We would sing our instincts’ song,
And if any happens to wrong,
You may slip to another’s clip,
And I would be loose to tempted throng!