Maiden like a Sage

My housewife is a Buddhist Queen
She sweeps the intimacy
Of our colored blooms with compassion
Dropping amber threads

Where I may have failed so –
She litters dust of emeralds
On our sleep bed, and lights
The candles for our meditation-bath

My housewife is a Buddhist Queen
She dreams vivid messages from
Lives before, and abolished all my captivity
She endears my fate to Gardens & birds

And speaks the dizzy Music of the Mandarin
That I pretend to say, the Ripest Rose
Of Jupiter-in-pink before I leave for work
My housewife is a Buddhist Queen

A logician of the deeds of the mundane
She cooks with righteous vegetables
I have never seen before, spicy mushrooms
To complement my idle touches

She washes my Noons with fruit-basket-care
With the algebra of hope in her yellow veins.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Hetalia-Taiwan-162202623