Praises For You

In a clearing in the woods, 

Under the misty moonlight, 

By the crystal lake, 

Lay the dusky frame of Krishna 

And curled tenderly up his broad shoulders, 

Was slender Radha -

As charming and fragile as a flower of golden dust. 

Your eyes sparkle as light lf frozen dew, 

And your hair cascading like a waterfalls, waves and curls with a life of its own. 

And your hands, 

Caressing her wrist in his dark one, 

Are fairer than the whitest lily, 

Softer than the mellowest fruit. 

Putting a finger on his lips, 

Whispered she - 'Don't praise me so, my Lord, 

Spirits of the night lurk above, 

And from the trees, 

They shall spit ill - luck on us. 

Yet these terror filled warnings, 

Could not do much to hide, 

The soft pink that crept up her cheeks, 

Or the smile that gave away 

That feminine bliss of being praised to the skies. 

And the dimples that set your face, 

At angles that mesmerize the onlooker, 

So does your voice,

Like ripples in the water when stars fall from heaven and..... 

Don't praise me so, 

For there are damsels so beautiful, 

I'm worthy not for even their thought