The sky
kissing the earth
so closely, passionately
fascinated, I stare at them keenly…
Intense urge to watch their trance
more of their celestial romance—
how they hug and embrace
suck and squeeze, girdle and gaze
like maniacs, wildly, or with grace…
But the more I advance
the more they recede…
Oh! Their love, a personal bow!
Purely a behind-the-curtain show…
OR
Only an illusion
like, of those married couples
where honeymoon their bedsheet crumples
bids goodbye to their love and romance
their baggage filled with staleness of the dance…
Form, compulsion and pretence
their tools for tolerating each other
till children come, accidental tumblers
to relieve them of each other
provide an easy bail-out
for them to stay together…
