The soul in me is really hers
I do not know how to make my eyes, which
Move impatiently around
To have a glance of her,
Understand
That she herself is my vision
I do not know how to make my ears, which
Long for hearing
The sweet voice of hers,
Understand
That she keeps singing inside me
I do not know how to make my heart, which
Throbs for an
Intimate togetherness with her,
Understand
That each of its pulse is triggered by her thought
I do not know how to make my hands, which
Are gnawingly desirous
Of caressing her
Understand
That I am yet to recover from the
Scintillation of her previous touch
I do not know how to make my lips, which
Restlessly bother me
With their thirst for a passionate kiss of hers
Understand
That I still hold on to
The taste of the previous experience
I do not know how to make my olfactory nerves, which
Consistently seek to get
The smell of hers
Understand
That the entire air
Is laden with the scent of her fragrance
I do not know how to make the soul inside me, which
In solitude
Cries for a heartful union with her
Understand
That the soul in me is really hers
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Added by Poetry Lover
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