The love poem I aptly wrote for my love on a beautiful backwater ferry trip to the "hugging mother's" pink Ashram...
Oh to bottle this love!
so vital, warm and safe.
Yet this cannot be encapsulated,
to taste again is but illusion.
Our present lives must sustain it,
make constant the infusion.
Rest not enough for the cup to sour,
enrich the sweet flavour,
savour,
whilst fresh
this ever evolving brew.
x?x
Oh to bottle this love!
so vital, warm and safe.
Yet this cannot be encapsulated,
to taste again is but illusion.
Our present lives must sustain it,
make constant the infusion.
Rest not enough for the cup to sour,
enrich the sweet flavour,
savour,
whilst fresh
this ever evolving brew.
x?x
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