Dengue Fever

Looking at the dengue patient
On a hospital bed, loved ones
Hovering around like droning bees,
A glass of water ready to rehydrate
And a pair of rubber slippers missing
The feel of life. Just a kilometer
Away, a mosquito buzzes around
A little child, searching for the feel
Of skin, to indulge in a blood meal.
And how dreadful, to see a little
Child, and a little insect, making a little pact,
For the smallest possible life form on earth,
To traverse through a dermal rampart.
Which like the nuptials of man and woman
Threatens in one fleeting moment,
A different meaning to the epilogue
Of that beautiful word – an eternity -;
A nuance of how out of all
Things blinding, love is at the helm,
And in the opposite extreme, rests
A puncture of skin, that in earnest, carries a strain,
Far more endangering than love.

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