Maitreyee B Chowdhury
I slept on a bed of Jasmine last night Cuddled and enfolded in the Cotton of your love,
Crushed at times and in creases-
Bereft of the gentleness of rain
From some far off corner..of a night yet young Sang a cuckoo,
In a tongue unknown Far into the heady fragrance Of an Indian summer delight.