Cinnamon
In you I found the land of India,
In you I perceived another sweet youthful aroma
Of whom India is and is to be tomorrow in eyes.
You are a coin of gold to that land!
Fertile, fruitful and fresher than the dusk.
When I see you, nothing looks like your gracious body,
When I behold you, a woman becomes my second thought!
Dynamics of the spirited trees in the forest of trees.
Here I lay under your tender embrace,
Here I dream under your umbrella to love again.
Clarity of a blooming perfection, bold to stand alone!
You’re mild, gentle kid sister to an African Rose
I enchant of your graceful leafs at home
Of your seasoned nobility bearing children.
Even the lonely cloud knows of your beauty,
When men seek for easement;
They lay under your armies proudly.
If firm, I can stand today avoiding
Yesterday’s pitfall; let the traces be found in your fruits.
© John Vincent Artistry
For: Film Republic Pictures.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
