Divine nectar, stranded

Wistful on their tongues,

The rural settlers linger

Vainly for another sighting of

Their guests — the damsels,

And a final taste of the foreign offering:

Unnamed summer fruit,

A richer golden than the exotic tresses,

A lusher meat than the cajoling lips.

Want to read more?

Become a subscriber today!

blank

Hate ads? Us too. Click here to subscribe.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

blank

Gourab is a 25-year old student from India. Writing poetry is more of an outlet than a hobby for him.

blank

Hate ads? Us too. Click here to subscribe.

blank

Hate ads? Us too. Click here to subscribe.