In these landscapes <br />guarded for centuries <br />by the long arms <br />of the impressive ‘pipals’ <br />my toes scribble new meanings <br />over the velvet rugs <br />of the decent thighs. <br /> <br />My nose prods <br />the aroma of moments, <br />blendth well <br />with the garden of memories <br />bestowed on me <br />decades back. <br /> <br />Here the birds whirl high <br />from the blanket feet <br />to the shoulders stout <br />beneath the wisdom <br />of the ochre arrogance. <br /> <br />Butterflies collect life <br />tapped in the sprinkled droplets <br />and the magical spindles <br />of the green tresses. <br /> <br />Unabashed <br />my passions climb high <br />over the arched scapes. <br />Toes dig the trenches <br />to strengthen the foothold. <br />Tumbled locks <br />hide the bruises of my misdemeanor <br />and raise the pinnacles <br />of the passions untold.<br /><br />Harish k. Thakur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/darings/
