You Were Indeed My Loving Wife Poem by Nikhil Parekh

You were my appetizing and delicious cake; without the tiniest globule of red cherry,

You were my stupendous palace; without the flamboyantly towering chimneys,

You were my impeccable canister of milk; without the most minuscule trace of cream,

You were my flute with mesmerizing sound; without the most inconspicuous of
glamorous beats,

You were my plate of scintillating ivory; without superfluous carvings embossed in abundance,

You were my swirling ocean; without the cumbersome and bulky ships polluting
it every unveiling second,

You were my sprawling meadows of fresh grass; without glistening dewdrops and
obnoxious fertilizer,

You were my breathtaking aircraft in the sky; without the luxuriously adorned
seats,

You were my traditional dancer; without any traces of pomp and gliteratti,

You were my cascading fountain of delectable froth; without spurious
effervescence and shimmering lights,

You were my silvery pearl incarcerated within the oyster; without traces of sanctimonious gold,

You were my ensemble of voluptuous hair; without the slightest aroma of perfumed shampoo,

You were my candle of pure wax; without artificial fires blazing; emanating
invidiously from your wick,

You were my romantic flamingo; without disdainful paint adhered to your wings,

You were my hard bound book of enchanting fairy tales; without any tinge of
mystery and adulterated thrill,

You were my tendrils of redolent musk; without any presence of the mechanized
room freshener,

You were my solid brick wall; without vivid color and pretentious graffiti,

You were my immaculate lines of literature embedded on the blackboard; without
any mentions of the swanky computer,

You were my coalition of clouds in the sky; without the most infinitesimal trace of contemporary spacecraft,

And you were indeed my Loving wife; the girl of my dreams; without the slightest
of embellishment; passionately breathing rustic draughts of air; smiling far away from the land of ostentation.