In Moonscape

A streak of sin was 
always there, when I looked 
at you in brief encounters. 

Cathartic. 
I would not kiss the 
eyes of a viper. 

The giver was insane. 
A bane of togetherness.You 
were getting pheromones all the time. 

Parenting was difficult. 
Now as the holy month starts. 
You were always near the moon. 

In golden sunset, 
I will prepare my elegy. 
The flames were always green. 

With the relapse of grief, 
drums sounded loud.