One Woman (poem) by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet on AuthorsDen

One Woman
by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet → (All Poetry by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet)
Saturday, March 19, 2016 Rated "G" by the Author.

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I might have eaten different varieties of food every day; appeasing my gluttony with the exact taste that circulated instantaneously in my tongue, I might have worn different clothes every day; vacillating between contemporary and traditional fabric; to succeed in my spurious attempts of looking the best, I might have talked in different dialects every day; maneuvering my tongue several times; to achieve that bombastic slang which I had perpetually dreamt of, I might have wandered in different directions every day; incessantly discovering and stimulating my insatiable greed for adventure, I might have read different books every day; profoundly engrossed in the inscrutable tales of enchanting mystery and romance, I might have slept at different places every day; sometimes under the tenacious moonlight blending with placid grass; while sometimes on the astronomical summit of the mountain feasting on the tremendously deep pink gorge, I might have looked in different directions every day; trying my ultimate best to decipher the intricacies of this fascinating planet, I might have bathed in different waters every day; sometimes standing under the artificial bathroom shower; while sometimes splashing my arms in supremely poignant ocean salt, I might have driven different cars every day; sometimes the astoundingly sleek silver Mercedes; while sometimes the battered jalopy to play a few pranks on fellow beings, I might have adorned my wrists with different watches every day; zealously observing as the seconds ticked into oblivion with each unveiling night, I might have admired different sights every day; fantasizing almost every minute to unprecedented realms of bizarre imagination, I might have danced on different floors every day; sometimes on scintillating slabs of marvelous granite; while sometimes brazenly striking my bohemian foot on the muddy ground, I might have inadvertently broken different things every day; sometimes the glittering bowls extruding from the mantelpiece; while sometimes the tiny mountains of sand that suddenly came my way, I might have drunk different liquids every day; quenching my thirst with the most conducive flavor that my throat cried for, I might have sat on several different places every day; ranging from as obdurate as the stubborn stone; to the ambiguous oasis of satiny fur strewn on the hills, I might have shaken hands with different people every day; unabashedly interacting with each section of the vast society, I might have listened to different tunes every day; feasting my sensitive ears to a fathomless pedigree of mind boggling and profusely enthralling music, I might have frequented different continents every day; whizzed past over boundless territories of land and water; seated like a prince on the lavish upholstery of my personal plane, I might have bought different toys every day; in my endeavor to amuse myself profoundly; reminisce way back into memories of, memories of unadulterated and innocuous childhood, I might have worshipped different deities every day; advocating my firm belief in each form of God existing; through far and wide in this secularly woven orthodox world, I might have taken the blessings of different mothers every day; revering and insurmountably respecting their irrefutable tenacity to evolve new life, But let me tell you; that although everything in my life had been different every day, I still have no inhibitions in declaring that I have loved only one woman from the bottom of my heart; the very woman whom I would continue to adore for centuries immemorial; the very woman whose essence would keep lingering around my impoverished soul even under my grave, the woman who is none other than my beloved.