The Mistress

A fine beauty blended the waves of sea Sparkling eyes, like stars of christmas tree Mystery throngs the atmosphere of her existence Her scent fills the wind, recognizable from distance She walks like a peacock, speaks like a dove Like a heavenly angel, sent from above Modest and humble, selective, with thoughts She writes of love and beauty with countless dots Melancholy, but joy behind the showing smile Determined to win the race of thousand and one mile Is it mystery? Or craving love is what she need Unless she speaks, it will be a secret indeed