Its the weather of yellow flowers again,
bright as your laughter,
that shows up your uneven teeth
that taste so good when we kiss
like the warmth of last night's bonfire,
with the glittering remains thereafter

For we won't be that young
ever in our lives again,
its time we made love,
just how we discovered,
laced with hesitations,
packed in sweat
unpacked in a hurry
spent carelessly
without thinking about the tomorrows
and the unused woods of the bonfire

- ज़ौक़ | Zouq