Like a snake-charmer
you peck, poke and swing
that long plait of yours
over your shoulder.

That devil slips as slickly
from there over the fronts in front.
It has the same silken shine
and reptilean grace of a Cobra.
your face at this end
resembles its drawn-out hood.

Does one need it?
Even without its sting
One is bitten by its beauty.
As though its not enough
you put on gold-rimmed specs
matching your skin and attire.
All looks get filed …
and magnetized to align in your field.

To me, everyone longing for your attention
looks like a sleepless night
waiting for the day-break.
Like an arrogant merchant of a seller’s market
you pare no looks at him.
you churn your surrounds
and just attend to your work.


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