And then there were times

When you would tease me until I was reduced to big tears.

Those stupid Gopis

Would still be enchanted

By your pastimes

They would embrace you

Adorn you with garlands

And call me jealous.

I am not jealous, Krishna.

I never was.

Why would you smile at them?

Their giggles, their captivating tongues?

I can bewitch you too.

I always have.

Back then I would sit

With puffed, narrowed eyes

And crossed arms.

You would sing me a song

Tickle me

Say my name with that enchanting voice of yours

And I would not melt.

Call me a difficult woman,

An iron lady.

For who has stayed staunch

Hearing your voice?

Seeing your lotus visage?

Haven't they all melted

Like ice in a desert?

Oh, Krishna.

What would I not give away

To have those moments back.

Those Gopis.

The teasing.

The tears.

The tickles.

Your mollifications.

You.