My Dad's New Love
Returning from dad's second India visit,
My dad to me confided,
That dad had fallen in love,
And was reciprocated.
Aunt Premala as I know her,
She was indeed exquisite,
On casting eyes on her photograph,
My heart skipped a beat,
And butterflies filled my stomach.
An instant passion in me blossomed,
My eyes did linger,
On her gorgeous, long, straight hair,
Soft and silky, a brilliant jet black,
And deep, chocolate brown eyes.
My dad had a plastic wallet,
Filled with photos,
Of Aunt Premala,
Her daughter and my penfriend, Semanti,
Daringly I bent over,
And with my finger,
Stroked Aunt Premala's lovely hair.