Her shadow falls on the
Gentle waves lapping the shore.
The lake is covered in mist,
The moonlight shines on her face;
On the beauty unsure.
Her skin is white, with
A pinkish tinge, bright
With blackness unseen, she
Breathes in and out in peace.
Her breasts are moving
Up and down rhythmically,
In a sensuous dance of romance.
The fire in her heart is bursting
Flames searching for wood to burn.
Her lips are gently parted,
To the chill of the wind.
As if she was kissing nervously-
The breeze, tasting thrill.
The wind blows caressingly,
To blow the hair off her face.
But, one or two strands stick
Around, leaving a seductive trace.
She walks on the shore,
Like walking on rose petals,
Gently stepping, so that
Even the sharpest thorns
-cannot find her sole.
When she walks, she dances,
When she twirls around.
She is an angel, her arms
Outstretched taking flight
Into the land of the eternal
Love; of romantic bliss.
Her trail leaves a golden trace,
In my mind still in a trance.
As I walk away from the shore,
It is an angel I have seen,
Now, I am sure.
---Mohan
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