The Last Love Poem by lalitha iyer

When my limbs are weary
as I falter with my journey
I remember
my wife
in her teens
bouncing like a rubber ball
curling like a dashing wave
and charming like full moon
she was
youth was bleeding
from her cheeks
blushing beauty she was
her burning looks
crazy me...
flaming dresses
flying legs
flirting lips
coyfull cups

now,
I am crossing eighty
my sight is within
vision is blurred
operations could not restore
the loss of time
I could view
her beauty
water coloured
reflected from my inner eyes
smooth skin
it caresses
my senses past
I steal my present
and dash to the pasts
lest future gulp me down
sitting at the fence
aching with her freshness
I still belong to the days of youth
struggling in my old age
soaring with her warmth
singing with her love
in a cruel, ugly voice
which is mine today.