The widow who never married
who are you?His enigma, calm and gentle.
And it should be;for it's the maiden one.
Am a widow ;tender was her voice too
for herself a gorgeous ma'm.
Was it an accident?his lips mumble sorry in vain,
yes indeed;she paused a while;I was never married.
His drunken fingers forget the senses ;of his lighter
her arousing breath kept the heat in control.
Wat's your name?it took some time,
for his voices to spell the thoughts.
yea,indeed it's his heart beats
that need some time to settle down.
Her eyes fixed far across;beyond his shoulder,
and the crimson red window behind.
To his right on the table ,she left a card
it named some agent across the town.
She had her lemon tea and chicken tikka
still he can't solve that teasing puzzle.
Now ,he woke up in his royal suite;
had his enlightenment,on the night that passed;
she shared her story,life and love; he learnt it all
under the fading bedlamp light.
The lessons he learnt, were intact
always, practice makes a man perfect.
He cant remember her pretty face or name,
the hangover, not completely gone or never it will.
The lessons he learnt, were intact
always, practice makes a man perfect.
Name of the widow was never known.
Neither we remember her vague face.
Her shades and shadows haunt me now,for we know
the opened corridors cant be closed again.
