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!