On the high stage, his clumsy swan has transformed
in to a dancing flame, though  sensed a twist
in the script, he sat eyes fixed on her, feeling gratified,
within moments, in perfect timing she changed colors
mesmerized everyone, to him certain moves were baffling,
unexpected, still he beamed, his eyes shone thinking,
"All that dancing beauty is mine".But can one contain a flame?
was he letting himself down by  being possessive about a beam?
(It's too early to feel proud about new loves and mango flowers,
he used to hear uttered often when he was still a callow youth)

When the applause died down, a commotion followed
a rush of people to see her up close, then a silence
that was not intended, he was waiting for her, what went wrong?
He waited for the swan that came into her own, within his embrace,
to return, like a farmer who thought all mango blooms are fruits.

Surrounded by admiring eyes, she didn't find a need to look at his side
and when he decided to go and look for his swan and take her home
he was shocked to find that away she had flown,
over his dreams, above the fluffy white clouds, never to return