Dwindled

It was a lovely lonely day,
sanely walking on hay;
Could feel a fete of dame-
stood next to the bush in lame.


Relished in her fame and I basked in for a glory,
anticipating embarkment of my love story;
Soon I fetched some negus in my hand to proffer,
I walked towards her-
she stood stranded,
couldn't look at her grimace,
as her hairs were twisted
and the bright robe reflected.

On my approach she saw me through impediment,
the roaches added much more embellishment;
With a holy grin she took the goblet-
fumed it and splashed on my hatchet;
She ran in glee and hid behind the tree,
peeked at me and could hear her say
" will you be always with me? "



Quavering Poet.
29th Feb ’08.
iquaver@gmail.com