Dear Drizzle of d early Spring!!
Request u not to drop like that
this afternoon
not to stick but vanish 
from d back of her brow
lest d dreams in d corner of her eye
would turn hazy...

As she walks past
d tall trees on both sides of d road
bow to take a look at her low neck-line
n leaves big n small
whisper about d cascade of her long hair
n d wind lends ears to her talk over mobile...

Let me not stop but request u
not to please look at me
in such moments of poetic frenzy
lest it would drive me crazy
n light a fire in d rain
n make me burn in my bower
with a desire so very lazy...

Do not talk with me like that
with that half smile swimming
across ur dimpled cheeks
I m afraid words spoken thus
might kindle d curves of a lost youth
to straighten into heights of an amorphous death.

Do not talk with me like dat over fone
lest i should fall in love again
with ur winged words
pushing me to new heights
where myths about union in love
float in dark clouds.

Do not touch me like that
lest i should risk
a tragic journey through
d contours of a difficult death
to b enacted in middle act of life.

Do not put such perfumes over ur soul
lest d Spring should go mad
with each tree craving to b a wild jungle;
putting me into a confusion about
where to pluck d desired flower
in heaven's broad n sweet bower.

Do not allow me dear friend
to step out of the doors
I m afraid I may fall in love
with this wind n rain;
let me muse indoors
with my beloved self
to get over all remorse n pain.