Monsoon Dreams
I compose poems
like marigold flowers,
yellow, gold, pastel and maroon
carefully pierced and
threaded
into a garland of colorful harmony
placed on your lap
to evoke midnight dreams
in a room with open windows.
Words come down
like a spray of raindrops
to inflame craving for you.
My room is empty and
windows are open.
You descend with the winds.
I am waiting to be loved.
Ashok K. Bhargava
