When the moon sought a cloud
The pine rich breeze dances over his face,
As fragrance of memories, both old and new
gently tickle his nose, How blissful! How blissful!
The winding roads with its twists and turns
titillating like her cascading tresses, as
Her coy youth fondled his core dizzy.
A parched myna longed for his ripened fruits,
Alas! The cruel cloud, with her meandering wispy sash,
Covered her virgin peaks, sculpted deep dips,
Untouched, called out his adventurous spirit,
Rich and soft, a rosebud bloomed and pouted,
fragile yet flaming, unexplored and wild
seemingly innocent as an endless river gushed about;
soft moans tingled, silky soft caresses lingered, to burn
and scar till the last bead of sweat trickled down.
An unforgettable sight, etched in his soul for eternity,
Irrevocably imprisoned to her guile and charms,
He sought her once more before he moved on his next
Great adventure, but in vain, for she was a cloud
And he a withering myna. Winter blanketed his plumage
As he cascaded realms to find his nectarine fruit.