Flame of Aphrilis


In the month of April 2020. It wasn’t long before I saw a sugary-sweet and sensual girl standing before me. And it didn’t take long to see that she had henna tattoos on her legs.


In Aphrilis’ bloom, in the year twenty-twenty,
I met a vision, both graceful and plenty.
A Bengali beauty, with charm so divine,
Stood before me, in the spring’s gentle shine.

Her legs, like the verses of an ancient song,
Adorned with henna, intricate and long.
Patterns that weaved like the tales of the old,
In their mesmerizing grace, a story told.

Each line, each curve, on her skin so fair,
Spoke of art and dreams woven with care.
I gazed in awe, my heart caught in a snare,
At the beauty of her legs, beyond compare.

In the magic of Aphrilis, under skies so blue,
I found love in those tattoos, so vibrant and true.
I longed to embrace, to touch, to admire,
Those pillars of grace, that ignited my fire.

Her legs, a canvas of cultural pride,
With each step, they spoke of a journey wide.
In the dance of the henna, in each delicate swirl,
Was the rhythm of a world, in a beautiful unfurl.

My heart yearned to hold, to cherish, to stay,
Lost in the allure, in a mesmerizing sway.
In the flame of Aphrilis, love found its way,
In the beauty of her legs, where my affections lay.

Forever I wished, in that springtime scene,
To remain in the spell of those legs, so serene.
In the art that adorned them, in the grace that they bore,
I found an eternal love, to cherish evermore.

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