Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Savage Encounter

 His golden harp, she didn’t hide
Nor delayed his breakfast time
Like an ogre he roared, loud and foul
At an err as thin as needle’s eye,
Softly she tip-toed to a towel shelf
Plucked one and placed into his wet hands,
Too lazy to walk few steps for chore
Found pleasure to whip his wife.
Ah! That Indian man!

 Image Courtesy: blogspot.com

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