I kissed each letter before blowing them to you,
in words this dancing heart inscribed,
as the soul lit up in love’s blushed hues,
the yen for its mate swelling like the moon’s tide.
Orbs of words whirled around in pink promenade,
quick stepping to amorous sentences,
as sweet rhymes formed into a tender serenade
singing soft, dulcet ballads, for you, my swain.
And the more I versified, the more the desire to dote in praise,
and in ardent euphoria to evince affection grew…
yet every drop of ink dripped in poetry failed,
and still fails, to articulate, how much I love you…
© Isha Garg