A Back Passage to IndiaA Poem by AbbotOfUnreason
Hear a mighty cymbal crash
See the glorious sun on scimitar flash,
Dancing girls strew flowers
Having descended from minaret towers
Of a sudden all the air
Is filled with opium scents, so rich and rare.
All this you carry within
You, flown from far-flung lands all drenched in sin
The closest I can manage
Is to touch these worlds through your back passage.
© 2010 AbbotOfUnreason
Added on November 22, 2010
Last Updated on November 22, 2010