Mother Tongue

Every writer
Seeks the great novel
To etch his name in folios of history
In a conversant tongue
As he dips in to the lexicon
For the perfect concoction
Of series and surprise
Words stripped in meaning
To make sensuous love
To the eyes of the beholder

Every dreamy writer
Starts with his mother tongue
Only for time to unveil the masked traitor
As he acquires another passport
To a colonial kingdom
To be a cosmopolitan traveler
Of the nib and the key

Still there is an unforeseen beauty
In the mother tongue
For she is the perennial bride
The only virgin man is in love with
Until he gives her body up
To fate’s summon

As he trades in his first-love
To make love to his mistress
Between his sheets



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