Little That He Never Knew!

The freezing Sunday morning it was,

When church bells seemed chasing someone,

All down the alley a rhyme was echoed,

On a bit louder and smoother note!

A long black coat hung behind that wooden door,

Kept waiting to unfurl its warmth,

For a ravishing lady to have that put on,

Who kept humming her rhymes since dawn!

Weekend had been her favorite all that while,

Not to relish a jazzy party or outing,

But for the secret noon confessions,

Made at the church with some alluring essence!

It wasn’t aura and not even winters,

Which made her super excited for the day,

But the priest behind that confession box,

To whom she craved to narrate her paradox!

The thunder in that manly voice,

And his faded shadow reflected through the side-window,

Were enough for this lady to fall for him each time,

Who seemed as avid as a glass of fresh wine!

Been there to confess ardor to her special priest,

For more than a hundred times,

She yet again failed to disclose him her love out of true,

Indeed, it was little of all that he never knew!