The Voyeur

Lured by the light in the bathroom,
he comes, prowling through 
the layers of darkness.
Seeing the two paws clinging on the 
window bars, and a pair of blue eyes
burning through the holes of lust,
a village virgin whoops, when 
the voyeur slinks away.

As the hot sun rays warm the canal,
he hides in the bushy banks, throwing
his blue eyes into the distant nudity. 
Sometimes, he is seen being chased
by the rustics with bamboo sticks.
But quick oblivion is bliss;
he gets duty bound again.

Hiding is a risk,
but peeping is a pleasure.
Through the twigs and bars, he stares
at the other side of pleasure.

First printed in my book, Kanoli Kaleidoscope (published by Punkswritepoemspress, US),and then reprinted in The Literary Hatchet

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