the lake’s glass surface reflects
a waning crescent moon.
crisp, cool air bathes my face
as the shikara knifes
through black water.
somewhere up ahead
cloaked in predawn darkness
a lotus waits
for the sun’s first light.
i know her well
and silently row
to a spot where the shoreline
gently bends.
at my approach
she shivers from the wave’s
gentle swell as the boat
slowly comes to rest.
wrapped in night
i long to quell
this insatiable hunger
which rages like a holy flame,
to tease open
each precious petal,
one by one, and inhale
her sweet perfume
after waiting too many lifetimes,
her and i,
for love to bloom.
