Defloration

As a cloud of sweat I sprawled above,

writing poems inside her with all my love.

Looking down I saw her face as a full moon,

and her lips resembled a crescent moon.

Even in pain, with a smile of content she gasped,

often with all her love my right thigh was clasped.

Night flowed; as her fingers swirled through my hair,

by evading blinking, deep into her eyes I did stare.

In the lustre of sunrise we both saw our bed

in the colour of sunset, by the virginity she shed.

Vishnu Pranam