I will stand on my head

if only you will love me

half as much as I love you.

No need for a MoneyGram.

One rupee will buy a paper cup

of the mulligatawny soup of love.

Sandalwood incense

wafts into the morning air.

Paying attention to suchness,

I put on my dancing shoes.

Parasites of my mind vanish.

Growing old makes me feel young again,

listening to music in the air

that even the Rock of Gibraltar can hear.

Do you remember the songs we sang

in perfect harmony, rewarding ourselves

by feeding each other grapes, one at a time?

Our Kama Sutra carpet departs on time.

The fire in our hearts cannot be contained,

but will be maintained by hibiscus-sweet kisses.

The March of Time is of no matter.

The locked gates of the world open wide.