HER MONA LISA'S SMILE

HER MONALISA'S SMILE
ONCE l met a lady in her rosy blouses,
wielded with the Alphonso mango bosoms
underneath her pinkish saree.
She was achingly beautiful, like" Apsara":
I've never seen before!
With her dinky cheeks,
she rouse a laughter on her wild lips as the timber bells,
And threw her wakeful eyes, betoning the brows in kajal
black.
She walked by me, in her curvy length,
stretching the dark lock to the full measures
on her back and up to the mounds.
In the tremor, her bulks dangled,
sometimes she drifted
in the rhythm of a pendulum.
My heart's bumping, my flesh's beastly,
my mind's agitated with the passion accursed.
Yet, I couldn't keep my eyes straight,
as a fear seized me to think of myself," Satyriasis."
Now, before me and behind the thin robes
all her possessions were enjoying a ramp,
while I stoop down my eyes like "Aesop's fox."
She smiled back , beside the lock her eyes screened,
And gone her sight slowly.
I was left alone in the midst
of sights,
taken aback by her last smile,
asking myself a thousand questions---
of her "Monalisa's smile."
© Imo thokchom.