LOST IN LOVE
The sycamore’s shaded bower
Provides no shelter
To the abode of shower
That melts into freezing water,
When Lancelot smells queen Guinevere’s golden hair.
Rolling smoke of vaporous breath
Hides her cold mouth
And truth feels ashamed of Shamelessness and untruth.
Where did she meet Lancelot last
When Arthur was in deep sleep,
Dreaming of Guinevere’s fair skin and dazzling noserings ?
Laughter smoothened the green veins of her cheeks and untouched feet !
Suddenly the door is opened !
Someone unmasks himself,
Holding Guinevere close to his bosom.
Stars bless the still air of the darkest room,
Where fingers cross the ocean of infinite nostalgia .
Epiphany stirs up the vexed up dreams of the rebel’s heart !
Tresses of golden hair play an infinite play with muscles of masculine grandeur !
Fragrant darkness gives birth to the dilapidated decade’s boldest sensation –
Voices of dissent pacify the mad heart of the banished insane !
The burden of cosmos is felt within –
What’s that ?
Love or sinless sin ?
Copyright@ Priyanka Banerjee