They were right to warn you about the budding compliments,
the bubbling banter and the flattery
that leads down the rabbit hole of narcissistic delight
of pulling rose petals out in an oscillating “do they, don’t they” frenzy,
tossing and turning and teasing all night.
Until the bounds of propriety are shamelessly skirted about and upon;
the danger and wear revealed to even the less prying ones,
in threadbare embarrassments- and giddy foolery,
mocking shame and cover, by unfenced flirtation,
dazed gazes and sighing doe eyes.
Only a moment now before the veil is let down,
only a moment that shields from complete stupidity,
and abandonment of sense and notion, before the commotion
that follows succumbing to the near inevitable,
and undesirable- yet certainly not unforseen!
Rein in, rein in then,
this whinnying randy repartee, and bridle
the babbling brook that runs over at present
but in the imagination-
safe from blunder; sinful plunder;
and convention –
grossly and irreparably mistook.
Too much of anything indeed is too much-
unchecked wine the maker of those,
that for lowly dregs giggle and gamble,
and reveal bare ankles; unaware
that true satiety
is in the tasting; not the stupor of drunken fools;
and the sweetest trance imposes itself only
upon those – that play by its rules!
© Isha Garg