–by Amanita Sen
–Reading Time – 1 min Approx
Love didn’t disrobe her.
But when her hooks gave away
To her own willing fingers,
Her straps got lowered,
She felt like a queen,
Each time, every time.
For now her body will
See a rare worshiping,
When the artist will sculpt,
Her beauty on his canvas,
His brush now his chisel,
Hands, an ardent worshipper’s!
How it grew upon them,
This meditative hour they shared!
Her body, his brush, in a lovemaking
Of the rarest kind, a conversation
That had wings as well as poise.
What took a body to be eloquent?
When hell broke loose outside,
For it was beyond men to gauge this act,
There was a strange peace inside!
What was there in those Godly hours.
The model wondered, but she never knew
If after all, it was love disrobing her!
–by Amanita Sen
A strange but wonderful tribute to an artist and her subject in a language devoid of carnal gaze.
Touchy, thought provoking , yet unputdownable…