My Love

My love, my love, my love, my love,

How the words trickle into my mouth,

Like honey oozing  from a honeycomb,

Or drops from rain drenched peepul leaves, 

Such abundance, such richness.

My love, my love, my love, my love,

How the words fill up my mouth,

Like a bite  into a juicy fruit,

Or a lemon tart with fresh white cream,

Such fullness, such sensuality.

My love, my love, my love, my love

The words run into one another,

Pearls of sound,

Strung together. 

And like a child’s musical box,

All I have to do is wind the key,

And over and over,

It sings,

My love, my love, my love, my love.

Arunima Choudhury