To a Beloved, Upon Observing Her Grace
"To her, whose beauty eludes the charms of words"
I sat with her as she worked, trying to scribble some words on an innocent paper
The looks on her face captivated me, as the tip of her pen vomited its nectars
Her nose was shaped like a spear, or more so like the smoothness of her pen
And her enthusiastic words led me into her mind, the lioness's dark den!
Her lips were pouted with the knowledge which only she can wield
As her pen, more so like a sword, struck the paper like it's an enemy's shield
Her fingers strutted like the feet of an enchantress dancing to her own spell
And the deep look in her eyes led me, enticingly, to a deep well
Where her words spring from, where her heavenly styles fountain from
And inside that well lies a lightened pool and a gold plaited dorm
It is the silent world where she lives, her own skillful abode
From there comes the vibes of the songs that only she can behold
How beautiful she is whenever she sketches a poem--
Lies in depths of aesthetics which every poet learns
She is a beauty that mere words can not sketch
She is a big whale which a measly cup can not fetch
Then I thought to lift my voice and say..."Dalia..."
But before the thoughts reach the brinks of my lips
Another choice decided to just watch her fire
That scorches the book without burning any of its leaves!
Copyright © White Sage | Year Posted 2017
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