Passion

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Passion is universal humanity. Without it religion, history, romance and art would be useless.
-Honor? de Balzac
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Passion

Pervading through the crowd,
Swimming across heads, caps and shoulders,
I recognize a flower blooming amidst all.
As I reach for it, the crowd thins out;
Then I catch beautiful eyes, eyes of a girl-
I hesitate to talk, yet push the hand
Brushing the cloth over her slender waist.
My eyes dive in the mysterious eyes,
Send a kiss for her beautiful and delicate lips:
She-reluctant, still steps up to me: me alone.
Again I kiss her; vibes connect our hearts.
Lost in the perfume spread on her body,
I trace the clothes end, moving with her skin,
Returning to her ever-mysterious eyes.
Hand in hand, I push the legs backward,
Then forward and sideways too,
Which she, catching the rhythm, follows.
The harmony prevails-steps brisk up,
We take turns; hands press the soft hands,
And we push each other to the other side.
We retreat and pull each other near,
Complete circles and all other geometries.
Audience applauds. They are gone again.
We sweat. As she conquers the ambience,
The particles fly off her body, off her delicacy.
In single, in blush, she remain bar her innocence.
I catch her, move into her steps, and then
Wrap her with my courtesy, passing robes
Across her thighs, her waist, amidst her breasts.
I stop at her yet-mysterious eyes.
It takes two to tango-As she turns
Her back brushing me, I catch her waist.
Her anxious eyes turn towards me,
The cheek and the lips as innocent as before-
I stoop down dive into her eyes.
Vibes connect us, the harmony prevails-
We conquer the ambience, particles fly off.
My lips touch her delicate lips.