Kirfa of my life

 She is my canela.
Cinnamon flow with who I eloped.
She sits on the edge of me and my hope.

Its a lake near my essence but is it me?
She is my sail for shade and seafaring.
When on wave, when the sun is overbearing.

The tongue longs for white chocolate.
The body for milk caramel sweets.
I can abide life without these.

She is the sweet spice my kirfa and sage.
She has been with me for 13 years.
I hold her closer than my personal baggage.

She eases the distilled trouble of the mind,
irons me out with hot tadka pan.
She is my kirfa, my different kind.

She is the Kite that lifts me higher.
She is the cool stopping me from frying.
She is my wife Maira.