Colors

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I washed out all your seven colors;

Except the black, the color of dark;

The shades of the mid-night hours;

The shadows of the straight powers;

Making love with those pearls and gems;

Glittering on your soft tiny breasts.

I plucked all your sinful flowers;

Except the black, the color of death;

The strong paint of the wooden coffin;

The wrong attack within a sudden pain;

Making lust with those heavenly bodies;

Tempting in an external smell of the souls.________________________________________

BY

WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

INDIA POETRY