by Jupinderjit Singh
Ripples, ripples and some more ripples
flood my heart
at the misty lake of love
a waiting blue bird and a shivering dove
stand Close yet afar
enjoying the love's pain
in the sharp breeze and under drops of rain
warmth
of a bonfire on the distant lonely island
and
of the hot dark chocolate in the veins
the mystic behind the smoke
with fiery eyes and flowing mane
looked up at the god's own jane
first ripple shored up at her sight
second at her starry eyes shining bright
the third at her smile
and many followed
each more pure and sans any guile.
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