A Voyeur's Log :

by Murlin Saint-Jean 

The Voyeur - by FABIYAS M V

Lured by the light in the bathroom,
he comes, prowling through
the layers of darkness.
Seeing the two paws clinging on the
window bars, and a pair of blue eyes
burning through the hole of lust,
a village virgin cries, when
the voyeur slinks away.

As the hot sun rays warm the canal,
he hides in the bushy banks, throwing
his blue eyes into the distant nudity.
Sometimes, he is seen being chased
by the rustics with bamboo sticks.
But quick oblivion is bliss;
he gets duty bound again.

Hiding is a risk,
but peeping is a pleasure.
Through the twigs and bars, he stares
at the other side of pleasure.