Friday, March 11, 2011

Hovels of the Betrothed

My Betrothed,
Whom I’ve yet to meet,
My wicked lovely,
Has the flu found its way through and through?

I cheated,
I looked you up,
I am pleased, but
A solitary question squeezes me,

Once we sit face to face,
Once the veils have been erased,
In closed corners, for forever or for more,
The answer to my question will chant to me,,
How traditional can you force yourself to be?

 I watch the Silkworms walk the loom,
As scents long forgotten softly burn,
A hint of childhood does return,

No man can be this blessed
Karma is never this well dressed
My reprieve from who am I,
Has done a number on who I am

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